


Safe and Sound

by orphan_account



Series: again and again [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dreams, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Wedding Bells and Seven Hells, academia au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-06 23:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Brienne’s childhood best friend is getting married. Paired with the strange dreams she had been having lately, she's having all sorts of bad ideas.





	1. Only Fools, They Say

It wasn’t so much a recurring dream as it was a recurring theme. It wasn’t really a nightmare, but it was unsettling enough to make her wish she would stop dreaming altogether. Jaime had been concerned at first, but after some mutual googling about the meaning and content of dreams it became a bit of a joke between them.

 

She had taken to going to bed and rising earlier to exercise in the mornings. He was insanely busy with all the shockingly numerous tasks that came with publishing a book. Many nights she joined him in the study before saying goodnight, attempting to give him some small comfort. He would take her in his arms and kiss her firmly.

 

“Goodnight Brienne. Sweet dreams. Or Jaime dreams.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

~

 

Tonight they were sitting in a circle with many other men in front of fire. Their faces were all blurry, but one of them looked like Tyrion and another like Pod. Dr. Gianstbane and Professor Davos were there as well. Jaime was in sharp focus, looking at her fondly. He beckoned her out of the circle. There was a cold floor beneath her knees. She was kneeling. Her hands were sweaty and her heart was pounding hard enough to hurt. He had a sword in his hands.

 

When she woke Jaime was wrapped around her back, snoring a little. She stretched her legs out against his and tried to take some deep breaths. The grey light of dawn was sneaking into the room. He nudged a knee between hers, rousing enough to clumsily kiss her shoulder and tighten an arm around her waist. A whisper of a laugh escaped her at his clinging. He groaned. She wondered when he had come to bed.

 

“Are you going for a run?” He mumbled.

 

“In a bit. Go back to sleep.”

 

“Wake me up so I can go with you.”

 

“You don't teach till noon." She reminded him. 

 

"Mmm, don't care."

 

"Okay.” She buried her face in the pillow, smiling now.

 

~

 

Two Wednesdays a month Gail would Skype Brienne over lunch. They both treasured the time, as those monthly promises to meet in person were harder to keep as they grew their respective careers in research and academia.

 

Brienne found herself increasingly locked down at Riverland University. If she wasn’t teaching she was representing the institution at conferences across Westeros. Gail was still fairly migratory despite earning her PhD in Clinical Psychology. She visited Tarth fairly often, pinch hitting at a free clinic, and had a fast paced job at a psychiatric hospital in Dorne. Lately she was interviewing at various institutions that would allow her to teach as well as conduct therapy and mental health research, so it seemed like every week she was testing the waters in a new city.

 

Brienne propped her iPad up against the tree she was eating under so she could finish her pasta bowl and talk at the same time. Today’s fall foliage was too pretty to keep her inside. Her friend was sitting somewhere with incredible bookshelves.

 

“Today I got a second interview request from Riverland.”

 

“When?” Brienne was miserable at suppressing her excitement. Gail giggled.

 

“Next weekend I think. Can I crash on your couch for a few days?”

 

“You know we have a second bedroom, right?” 

 

“Gods, is this…adulthood?” Gail asked, genuinely impressed. 

 

“I know. I didn’t think we needed a second bathroom either but I was dead wrong. I’ve been deprived my entire life.” 

 

“I can’t wait to see the place. How was Tarth? Pops said ya’ll had a great visit.” It had been two weeks since their blissfully unplugged vacation. They had done nothing but sleep, hike, and eat too much at her Uncle Goodwin's house. Brienne sighed wistfully.

 

“It was perfect. Just the thing I needed. Work has been…crazy.”

 

“Are you still getting press from the New Northerner?”

 

“That’s dying down, finally. I’ve been neck deep grading midterms, though.”

 

“Okay, see, you have no right to complain about that. You write your own tests.” Gail shook her fork at her. “I framed your article by the way.”

 

“How very morbid of you.”

 

“Vain, really. Just the part where you name dropped me.”

 

“Jaime’s been threatening to do the same.”

 

“Hell I would too. You basically put together a permanent record of your relationship.  _That’s_ love, bitch.” Gail laughed around a mouthful of salad.

 

“I still have much to learn.” Brienne snorted. “Speaking of Uncle Archie, he told me to talk to you about something.” Gail paled and her face went blank almost immediately. Brienne’s heart skipped a beat. She had never seen the woman react so viscerally to anything, like she had been stabbed.

 

“Oh Jesus fuck. Did he-?“

 

“He just said you were thinking about proposing. And that you were anxious. Nothing more. We don’t have to talk about it if you-“

 

“No, no. I probably should talk about it. Or see a fucking therapist or something.” Gail tried to make a joke. She took a long drink of water. “I haven’t bought a ring or anything.”

 

“I thought so. Or at least, I hoped I would have known before it got to that point.” Brienne attempted to tease, suddenly wishing that they were sitting across the table from one another.

 

“Bold of you to assume you’re not going with my to buy the damn thing. You’re the only person I know who has the same sized hand as Ann.” Brienne threw her head back and laughed at that one. It made Gail feel better. Some color returned to her cheeks.

 

“We can talk about it when you’re here. We can watch reality TV and you can cry as much as you like. Jaime will panic and try to feed you because he doesn’t know how else to help.”

 

“Love that dumb boy.” Gail sighed. “You know I don’t believe in marriage. As a concept or an institution…”

 

“I know. That’s why I was so surprised to hear.”

 

“Not as surprised as me.” Gail rubbed the back of her neck. “But I love this woman more every morning. It’s been two years. Isn’t that bonkers?”

 

“I know the feeling.” Brienne reassured her. The women exchanged a long, wordless look.

 

“I miss you.” Gail said. 

 

“I know. I miss you more. Imagine if you and Ann moved to to Riverrun.”

 

“I would literally install myself on your couch. Permanently. It might be a problem.” Gail snickered. “Your man would be like, trying to romance the hell out of you with his muscles and his face and shit and I would just be like…watching house flipping shows in my sweats or something.”

 

“Muscles and face.” Brienne mused, barely containing her mirth. “Yep, that’s all of it. Nothing else in there.”

 

“My rent will just be nannying your seven yet-to-be-conceived children. I’ll quit my job and get super ripped carrying around your superhuman offspring on my hips.” Gail was fully back to her jovial self. Brienne rolled her eyes. 

 

“You’re not fantasy prone at all, are you?” 

 

“Speaking of boys and feelings, how’s our beloved Dr. Lannister?”

 

“Well, his manuscript is still in the copyediting phase, but he’s starting the book design process.”

 

“Ah, the best and worst parts I hear. I’m glad he’s doing this before we do so we know what bullshit is coming down the pipe.”

 

“Right? They’ll make you replace all your expletives with commas.”

 

“How else do you find the right places for commas?”

 

“Jaime’s good.” Brienne sighed, trying to get catch her breath after all the laughter. “He’s always good.” A pair of hands seized her rib cage and she shrieked.

 

“Fuck yah, I am!” Jaime planted a hard kiss on her cheek. She groaned as he sat behind her in the grass.

 

“You know I hate that.”

 

“I mean, you’re wife saw me coming and everything…” He teased, gently pulling her backwards and against him. She tilted her head back and to the side for a proper hello kiss. Instead of accepting her chaste greeting he slipped a hand around her neck and caught her bottom lip between his own. Gail made awful retching noises.

 

“How old are you, again?” Brienne snorted, picking up the iPad and propping it up against her knees so she could continue leaning back on Jaime’s chest, keeping them both in the camera frame.

 

“Arn’t there children walking around campus? Innocent, impressionable children?”

 

“That’s just how he says hello to everyone.” Brienne volleyed back. Jaime looked genuinely scandalized for a moment before chuckling and kissing the side of her head.

 

“Clearly, I’ve been deprived. How’s it going, Jaime? You look almost lovely.”

 

“The beard’s a bit long, isn’t it?” Brienne interjected, reaching a hand up to pinch his chin affectionately. He batted her hand away.

 

“Alright, alright. I told you I’ll trim it.” He groaned. “I’ve been in meetings all morning. Once the blood returns to my head I’ll be fine.”

 

“Gods, I love a man without a drop of blood in his head in my meetings.” Gail put her chin in her hands.

 

“Wait which head are you-?“ Brienne couldn’t even finish her question the three of them were laughing so hard. Jaime knuckled his eye and Brienne fanned herself with her hand as they recovered. “Gail’s going to stay with us next weekend. She made it to the second round of interviews at our medical center.” Brienne reported proudly.

 

“Outstanding. Congratulations.” Jaime replied with genuine warmth. “Are you bringing Annie-Ann with you?” Gail cleared her throat.

 

“My love is still at Casterly Rock Her sister is back in the hospital, so she took a few weeks off to help with the baby. I’m heading there as well, after this interview.”

 

“We can’t wait to see you.” Jaime said. An alert on Gail’s phone went off.

 

“Damn, my client is here early. Brienne, I love you baby, and thank you both. I owe you one. I’ll see you real soon.”

 

“Take care, Gaily.” Brienne said softly, blowing a kiss to the camera. Gail caught it and returned one before disconnecting. Jaime kissed the top of her ear and wrapped both arms around her waist to prevent her from sitting up. She cast a glance around the university quad. Some people were milling about but no one was really paying attention to them.

 

“How is she really?”

 

“Not sure yet.” Brienne mused, wrapping an arm around his and drumming her fingers against his wrist. “I think she’s at a crossroads…and she’s very scared.”

 

“She and Ann are crazy about each other.”

 

“Gail’s spent all her life not believing in marriage.”

 

“Really?” Jaime sounded genuinely surprised.

 

“Marriage is…a different beast when you’re a woman growing up on Tarth. It’s still very conservative. Gail’s birth parents were an arranged match that didn’t pan out. She was old enough to remember child protective services taking her away from that. There was a lot of excruciating court experiences before she was adopted.”

 

“Damn.”

 

“Not to mention growing up gay in such a closed purity culture. All through school the only sex education we got was abstinence. We were only told what we had to do to prepare for husbands. Not partners or equals, but husbands in the old lord of the house sense. The priests still fund and control the schools there, still teach the wisdom of the old gods. It took such an emotional toll on all of us, but especially her.” She could practically hear Jaime’s gears turning. “Marriage was for sex and sex was for reproduction.” She summarized. 

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever given it that much thought. Education at the Rock is a bit more liberal. Certainly less religious. In my family it was just, the thing to do I guess. All relationships inevitably funneled toward it. To grow a family was the loftiest goal. I’ve always seen it as a validation of an existing partnership. With a fun party of course.” She laughed and felt his chin rub against her shoulder. “Where do you stand?” He asked quietly. Brienne’s chest suddenly felt tight. They had never talked about this before.

 

“Not sure yet.” She said again. He chuckled. “My parents had a wonderful marriage, so I’ve seen it at its best. But through Gail and others on Tarth I’ve seen it at its worst. As a concept it’s antiquated but as a flesh and blood human being I think it might be…nice? I don’t know. It’s a silly thing, isn’t it? An excuse to get drunk and wear expensive clothes. I’ve never liked having my picture taken, anyway.” She felt her cheeks heating up and was immensely grateful when Jaime’s stomach made its presence known. “Have you eaten today?”

 

“Not yet. Walk to the food trucks with me?”

 

“Of course.”

 

She accompanied him back to his office too. She really should have been tucked away at her own desk, editing journal articles or letting students mill in and out for office hours. No one was waiting on her, so she figured they would know where to look if she left both their doors open.

 

Jaime worked through a foot long sandwich and answered emails, muttering much meaner responses than what he was typing. She plopped down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and fidgeted with her iPad. Gail had texted her the link to a fascinating article on the mental health of academics from the New Winterfell Times. Pod stopped by for a chat, coffee in tow for all three of them.

 

"When do you leave for the Iron Islands?” Brienne asked cheekily. Pod pinked just a little. It was her grad student’s first conference presentation without her presence and supervision, but he was taking his girlfriend for moral support and Pyle was gorgeous this time of year.

 

“We’re flying out Thursday night and coming back Monday morning. I’ll be back in class Tuesday.”

 

“No rush.” She insisted.

 

“Hell yah. Take the missus on a glass bottom boat tour or something.” Jaime added.

 

“Cate’s a champion fisherman.” Pod grinned, looking wistfully into the distance for a moment. “Maybe we’ll take the fly fishing rubbers.”

 

“Now that’s what I call romance. Bri-baby, how come you never taken me fly fishing?” Jaime teased. Brienne rolled her eyes and tried not to notice Pod’s delight at hearing her called something other than Dr. Evenstar or Brienne.

 

“You enjoy nature about as much as an indoor cat does.”

 

“I do love a good window sill.” He said around a mouthful of lunch. “I like fishing from Gail's boat.”

 

“All the seats are padded and she keeps three coolers.” Brienne explained to Pod, “One for bait, one for food, and one for alcohol.”

 

“Fishing is much better when lubricated.” Pod agreed. Jaime tapped their coffee cups together in a fake cheers.

 

“Not a good enough reason to use the word lubricated.” Brienne sighed.

 

“Come now." Jaime chastised her. "The boy just gazed off into the distance with cartoon hearts in his eyes thinking about fly-fishing with his buff champion adventuring girlfriend, lubrication is aptly on the brain.” Pod nearly spat out his coffee laughing. Brienne threw a paper clip at Jaime.

 

Another student came by to ask Brienne a quick question about the paper she was working on. Jaime immediately lent her a few helpful books on the topic. All in all it was a blissfully quiet afternoon. When Brienne finally returned to her own desk to crack into some heavier work she noticed there was another text from Gail. It was a picture of Ann holding a chubby angelic baby on her hip in somebody’s kitchen. Gail captioned it >>>  _and now I’ve got fucking baby fever._ Brienne texted a back a series of emoji hearts. >>> _Beautiful!_ She added after a moment.

 

 _> >>My heart actually hurts. I love her so much. I love that baby so much. Fuck’s sake._ Gail replied. Brienne considered a few responses, but then chose a more direct approach.

 

_> >>We’re all just learning how to love being in love, G._

 

 _> >>BRIENNE YOU SAP._  

 _> >>STOP BEING RIGHT._ 

 


	2. What If We Ruined It All? And Loved Like Fools?

They were in a routine of cutting out early on Friday afternoons to workout at the fencing club. Jaime was always trying to improve strength, dexterity, and speed in his left arm. He was almost back to peak form. Brienne had helped him re-learn technique on foil first. Jaime sometimes missed the feel of the epee, but Brienne’s saber skills were both legendary and mesmerizing. She had quit the competition circuit after grad school but was a highly sought after coach and competition judge, roles she occasionally filled for the Riverland collegiate team when she needed an outlet. Many of her students were potential olympians. Once he matched her skills they would start learning epee together.

 

They could go for hours, smacking each other around with swords till someone yielded, and even then it was usually because they were sweaty and damn near suffocating under their gear. They never tired of the duel. Today they had an audience, which usually annoyed the hells out of Brienne, but it was a coach with a team of young girls who was attempting to teach them something about lunging. The girls were hardly paying him any attention, shrieking and applauding and cheering for Jaime and Brienne. Jaime was putting on a little extra show. They started to let etiquette slide and instinct take over, moving faster and attempting to knock each other entirely off balance.

 

They didn’t stop until they accidentally crossed ankles, preventing them both from withdrawing and sending them both unexpectedly crashing down on their arses. They both raised their left hands to signal a yield. The young spectators went wild. Jaime tossed his mask and laughed, flopping down on his back. Brienne was grinning as she slipped hers off. The girls clustered around and asked to touch the sabers. Jaime gladly handed his off. They marveled at the weight and length of it, comparing it to their starter swords. Brienne got up to model a lunge technique for them.

 

She caught Jaime staring with that gobsmacked look on his face that always made her blush. When he tossed his prosthetic hand off the girls shrieked with glee.

 

“You’re a pirate!”

 

“A real pirate!” The coach flushed and chastised the girls. Jaime winked and shushed them, as if they were letting out a big secret.

 

By the time they were alone again their breathing was evening out and sweat had stopped rolling into their eyes. Brienne took her hair down from its tight bun and shook out the sweaty curls.

 

“Good workout, Evenstar.” She slipped her hand into the collar of his jacket and tugged him forward for a quick kiss, secretly satisfied at how blissed out he looked afterwards.  

 

“Good match.” She agreed. “You almost beat me.”

 

“I stopped keeping track.” He admitted, making her smile. She kissed him again. They stretched together and hit the showers before heading home. They took a trolley to avoid the beginning of a light evening rain shower. She left a hand on his thigh and leaned on his side as a deeply satisfying exhaustion slipped into every limb. By the time they got home the city was cool, grey, and quiet. Jaime made himself busy in the kitchen, putting together massive plates of grapes (two kinds), cheese (three kinds), and fancy farmer’s market bread rolls (four kids, for some gods-forsaken reason). Brienne uncorked a red wine and before the bottle was even done breathing, a tell-tale knock landed on the door.

 

Gail and Brienne, per routine, didn’t greet each other so much as laugh and make slightly inhuman noises while embracing each other for several minutes.

 

“How was your flight?”

 

“Too long. I’m really getting sick of airports.” She must have gone to work before traveling, as she was wearing a blazer and polished boots over a smart looking blouse. Gail slipped out of Brienne’s arms to give Jaime a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “Oh man, look at you two. And look at this beautiful ass home. It's incredible.”

 

“We call it the _lion’s den_ but _ass house_ works too.” Jaime joked. Gail knuckled his cheek. Brienne hauled her friend's things to the guest bedroom and let her freshen up. Gail returned in sweats, socks, and a tee shirt to match the evening attire of her hosts. They sat around the kitchen island and proceeded to get smashed off of Northern wine, snacking till their stomachs were almost uncomfortably full.

 

Jaime told them about his current editing work. They were almost done with the first copyedit of his book. A second round still stood between him and publishing. Gail caught them up on the happenings of the Goodwin clan. Evelyn was pregnant, despite her best efforts, but she and Archie Junior were truly delighted at the prospect of bringing another little girl into the world. Archie Senior had decided he wanted to write one last book. Poetry this time. Rosie was thinking about going back to school to finish her business degree.

 

“How’s Ann? Anything new on her sister?” Brienne asked, refilling their glasses for a third time.

 

“My Annie girl is glowing, per usual. She told me she actually enjoys the baby’s schedule. How psychopathic is that?”

 

“How old is he? Like one? He’s still not sleeping through the night.” Jaime cringed.

 

“And still in diapers.” Gail wrinkled her nose. “Anyway, she’s a better woman than us all. I miss her to bits. Samantha is powering through. She really clicked with this physical therapist. Prognosis is good.” Brienne smiled and linked their hands together. Gail kissed her wrist.

 

“Car accident, correct?”

 

“Can you call getting your Honda smashed by an 18-wheeler a car accident? Nine broken bones not counting her back. I’m just glad we’ve been able to help out. Annie had sick days to burn.”

 

“The Tyrell-Goodwin powerhouse chugs on.” Brienne teased.

 

“Nice ring to that.” Jaime observed nonchalantly. “Should I run out to the bodega for ice cream and movies? Wait, isn’t the Bachelorette on tonight?”

 

“You’re drunk.” Brienne laughed, gently pushing on his shoulder.

 

“Ugh. This girl gives me the creeps, though. Besides, the Bachelor is superior television. We will never top the last season.” Gail said, face dead serious all of a sudden. Brienne looked her up and down dubiously.

 

“You’re even worse.”

 

“Something a little stronger for a nightcap, then?” Jaime started rummaging around the kitchen again. Brienne rolled her eyes.

 

“You’re going to kill her. What time is your interview tomorrow, Gail?” She laughed and slung her arm around Brienne’s shoulders.

 

“I’m in meetings from noon till five. Then there’s a brunch Sunday morning. It’s low key. The first interview was the hard work.” Jaime returned with a bottle of whiskey and some shot glasses. “Hells yah.”

 

“To all the hard working Goodwins and all the angelic Tyrell women.” He toasted them. They threw it down quickly and all immediately regretted it, coughing a little on impact.

 

“Shit that’s good stuff.” Gail sighed. “I’ll sleep like the dead tonight.”

 

“And will probably be too dead to be nervous tomorrow morning.” Jaime snickered, staggering a little as he started cleaning up. Brienne giggled and wrapped both arms around her friend.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be, Bri. I can still hold my liquor.”

 

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

 

“Me too, love.”

 

~

 

Jaime called it a night but Brienne lingered with Gail in the guest room, stretched lazily across the foot of the bed as Gail slowly prepped for the following morning. She ironed her clothes and set out her toiletries before taking a quick shower. By the time she flopped on the bed next to Brienne they were both sobering up.

 

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Gail asked.

 

“I’ve known you too long to be surprised.” Brienne replied, pulling some hair away from Gail’s face. “But tell me…what makes you so incredibly scared of marrying Ann?”

 

“I don’t think it’s Ann at all. I think it’s the idea of a contractual agreement being involved.” Brienne snorted.

 

“You looked physically sick when I brought it up the other day.” Gail smiled weakly.

 

“Marriage could change everything. It could change me.”

 

“For better or worse.” Brienne joked. Gail groaned and backhanded her side ever so lightly.

 

“Be nice to me. I’m in pain.” Brienne curled an arm around her waist in a loose embrace.

 

“It _will_ change everything. It _will_ change you. But I don’t think either of you would do it if that change were painful and needlessly hard. Worse case scenario…she tells you no, right?”

 

“Or even worse, she says yes.” Gail deadpanned, shrieking as Brienne pinched her. “Kidding. Sort of.” Gail stared at the ceiling, biting her bottom lip.

 

“Have either of you talked about the future before?” Brienne asked.

 

“Scads.”

 

“And what do those conversations sound like?” Brienne propped herself up on her free arm, resting her head in her hand.

 

“She was the first to say I love you, way back when. But ever since we’ve been very clear about our feelings. She’s as much in love with me as I am with her. We’ve talked about how permanent it feels and how we’re going to ride it until the wheels fall off. We’re always talking about growing old together. She’s always telling me that she wants to spend the rest of her life with me.” Brienne beamed. “When we found our apartment and started buying all that furniture, we were talking about how good the pieces would be for a house one day. All that jazz.”

 

“Has she brought up marriage before?”

 

“Her coworkers call me Mrs. Tyrell and neither of us correct them.”

 

“Gods, Gail. She wants to marry you.”

 

“That doesn’t mean anything, does it?”

 

“It’s sweet. You're useless.” Brienne sighed. Gail snorted. 

 

“Do you and Jaime talk about getting married?” The question made Brienne pause. Gail laughed delightedly at her expression. Brienne reached down her shirt and pulled out the chain with her father’s wedding ring, making her friend outright gasp. “And he-“

 

“It was my idea. I wear Dad’s and he wear Mama’s. It’s…a sort of a token. Or a promise, I guess. We talk about the future like you do. We agree that what we have is…special. Life long, maybe.”

 

“I don’t know if I’d be a good wife.” Gail said softly, gently picking up Selwyn’s ring and tracing the edges with her thumb.

 

“Oh Gail.” Brienne felt her heart break a little bit. There were tears in her friend’s eyes. “You’re not bad at anything. You never have been. Even when we were children. It’s actually kind of infuriating.” They laughed. Gail wiped self consciously at her cheeks. “You’re an incredible friend. A sister to so many. You’re a top-of-the-line psychologist who can pin point trouble before it even begins. You’re a generous and superior partner to go through life with. I would know. Even when we fall out of touch now and then I never doubt your heart. Ann adores you. It literally shines out of every bit of her.”

 

“I’ll hate myself if I lose her.”

 

“I don’t think you will. And even if you do, I don’t think it would ever be ugly or destructive. You two are so wise and calm compared to so many others.”

 

“What should I do?” Gail pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply.

 

“Tell her you love her and that you want to be with her forever. Maybe offer her a ring. Tell her it can mean whatever she wants it to mean. Let it unfold.”

 

“And if she wants to marry me?”

 

“You could go the courthouse and be done with it in a few hours flat. Or you could wait a year or two. Or five. Who’s counting? Small ceremony. Big party. You could do anything. You could do nothing.”

 

“How the fuck are you so good at this?” Brienne shrugged as they laughed again.

 

“Jaime’s a bad influence.” She admitted, cheeks burning.

 

“Your love is inspiring as fuck.” Gail agreed. “I still don’t believe in marriage. Why do I want this so bad?”

 

“You want _Ann_ so bad.” Brienne corrected. “What do you think of when you think of marriage? I’ve learned that there’s a lot more to it than we learned on Tarth.” Realization dawned on Gail’s face.

 

“I think of the sacrifice of independence...and the rituals of home building.”

 

“None of which Ann would make you suffer.” Brienne pointed out. “Well. You two have always talked about building a cabin together. I’ll never understand that.”

 

“Woodland isolation is every young lesbian’s wet dream.”

 

“Shut up.” Brienne snickered anyway. “You already know her family so well. She knows yours. I think now, as consenting adults liberated from religious communities, weddings can function as something entirely different. We’re allowed to celebrate ourselves. Mutual affection. Sex. Whatever else you can think of. You can reclaim all that trauma and piss poor rhetoric fed to us as children.”

 

“What do you think of when you think of marriage?” Gail returned the question. Brienne fell silent again.

 

“I’m not sure yet.”

 

“Really? You sounded awfully convincing just now.”

 

“Come now. I’m extremely talented in stretching a minimal knowledge base.” Brienne sighed, dropping her head in the bed. “It makes me scared to think about for some reason. Not in a bad way…not in a good way. It’s like there’s a door between me and it. Everything I would want from a marriage I already…kind of have. I think? I don’t know. I freeze up.”

 

“The great unknown. Makes about as much sense as falling in love, doesn’t it?” Gail yawned into the crook of her elbow. “Turn off the light, will you?” They got under the covers together. Brienne was struck with a massive wave of nostalgia for their shared childhood. Gail was too, evidenced by some tearful sniffing. “Remember when we used to do this in a twin sized bed?"

 

"I remember my feet always hanging over the edge." 

 

"This is why I can’t live here, Ann and Jaime would go on a sex strike or something.”

 

“He’d get over it.” Brienne pulled the duvet up to their noses. “I’ll just stay until you fall asleep.”

 

“I’m taking you both out to dinner tomorrow. Drinks and food on me. Pick a good place.”

 

“You should talk to Jaime about this too.”

 

“Moving in?” Brienne backhanded her. “Getting hitched?”

 

“Yah. He grew up differently than we did. He believes in it and is probably more coherent than me.”

 

“I value both of your opinions. He and Ann get on really well.” Gail yawned again. “Don’t sell yourself short. The promise ring idea is beautiful. And you’re right about our exposure to the matter. Tarth really fucked up a lot of things for us that we’ve steadily had to reclaim over the years. This shouldn’t be that much different.” They breathed deeply. “What would Uncle Selwyn say right now, you think?”

 

“Take your time. Life takes time.” Brienne smiled, closing her eyes. “What would Uncle Archie say to us right now?”

 

“Where you invest your love you invest your life. Bag ‘em and tag ‘em, girls.” They laughed so hard they got a teasing wall thump from Jaime in the study.

 

~

 

Brienne couldn’t remember the laughter stopping or closing her eyes, but when she opened them Gail was groaning and slapping the side table, feeling for her phone to silence her 9 am alarm.

 

“Oh fuck.” Brienne groaned, stretching and yawning.

 

“Seven hells and heavens.” Gail shoved her head under the pillow next to Brienne.

 

“Why would you ever have an alarm on a Saturday?”

 

“Oh shit.” Gail sat up. “Cause I’m interviewing.” Brienne yanked her back down into the bed.

 

“Not until noon.”

 

“Why am I so hungover? Are you hungover?”

 

“A little.” Gail rubbed her face with both hands.

 

“I need to workout. And take a shower or two. That’s why I set an alarm, I think.”

 

“There’s a spare house key on the hook by the door.” Brienne mumbled. Gail tried to fumble around in the dark for leggings and a tee shirt with one eye still shut. Brienne could hardly open her own. Gail filled the bathroom sink with icy water and held her face under. Upon resurfacing she looked much more alert.

 

“That’s the ticket.” She did a few jumping jacks and started stretching out. Brienne groaned.

 

“Just watching you do that actually makes me nauseous.”

 

“Go to bed and stay there. Don’t worry about me.” Gail giggled. “I’ll be back to wash up and then I’ll be off for the day. I don’t think the city has changed all that much since I was here last year.”

 

“Probably not. We should awake by five. Hopefully.” Judging by how quiet the house was, Jaime was still in bed as well. She struggled into a standing position. Gail gave her an encouraging swat on the arse as she came up for a tight hug.

 

“Go relax. Enjoy your Saturday. I’ll see you tonight.”

 

“You’ll kill it. You always do.”

 

“You look a little green around the gills. Did you sleep alright?” Gail asked, frowning slightly as she reached up for Brienne’s chin, turning her face to the left and right to get a better look.

 

“I’ve been having strange dreams lately.” She admitted, self consciously rubbing her cheeks in an attempt to get some color into them.

 

“What about?”

 

“Lots of things. Last night was sword fighting, I think. Zombies with bright blue eyes. I could feel them grabbing at me.” Jaime had been there too, at her side the whole time. Brienne shook off the mild tremors of disgust at the blood and gore. The end of the dream hadn’t been so bad. There was drinking and laughter and fire light. Pleasant sensations of warmth. She had been alone in a hot room at one point but had opened a door to find Jaime and more wine. Gail gave her a once over.

 

“Too much fencing for you. Anyway, you’re definitely not rested enough. Off to bed with you.”

 

“Yes Doctor.” Brienne returned the arse swat and then slipped down the hall and up the stairs to her own bedroom. The morning was even grayer than the previous evening and she was grateful for it. The house was cool and dark. Jaime was still tucked in bed, spread eagle on his stomach on her side of the bed. She lifted the duvet and his left arm and tucked herself in. He inhaled and tightened his arm around her almost immediately.

 

“Mmm there you are.” He mumbled, pressing barely-there kisses to her face, his own eyes still closed. She wondered if he had stayed up late waiting for her to come to bed.

 

“Are you mad at me?”

 

“Why would I be mad?” He grinned but she could tell by the tone of his voice that he was only barely lucid. She smiled and snuggled closer.

 

“No reason.”   



	3. Once More, With Feeling

She dreamt about sitting across a table from herself. The other Brienne had short cropped hair and was wearing a suit of honest-to-gods armor, complete with sword. There were long pale scars on her cheek and neck, a thick book took up space on the table between them. The other Brienne looked shocked to see her.

 

 _Keep him close_ she said. Brienne couldn’t reply to herself. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. It was quiet. So quiet. But the other Brienne seemed to understand. _Keep Jaime close to you. Always._ She said. _I couldn’t do it, but you can. I think it’s different now. At least, I dreamed it was._ The other Brienne had tears in her eyes which started to spill down her cheeks. _You can and you must. Please. For us._ Brienne reached out to comfort herself but it all went pitch black and she got the sensation she was plummeting down face first from a considerable height.

 

She gasped for air and sat up, tingles rushing down her spine. She was in bed. The room was dimly lit, light fighting to get past the edges of the black-out curtains. The wall clock read noon.

 

Her sudden movement had roused Jaime. Sheet creases were printed on his cheek and his hair stuck up in every direction. He knuckled his eye and slid his short arm up her back.

 

“Bad dream?”

 

“Strange. Felt like I was falling.”

 

“Hate those.” He said sympathetically before yawning and stretching. “Come here.” She sank back down into his arms, letting him stroke her back and hair and lazily kiss her good morning. She squirmed because his beard tickled her face and his fingers were teasing the bend of her knee. “Do they scare you?” He asked. “It seems like they’re every other night now.”

 

“They don’t scare me. They’re just…strange. A little sad.” She admitted. “You really do need to trim this.” She tugged on his beard. Next thing she knew she was on her back, shrieking as he ran his ticklish beard all over her neck.

 

~

 

The sun peaked out late in the afternoon and there was a delicious breeze wrapping around the trees. The three of them walked around the lake to a little waterside restaurant after Gail returned from her busy afternoon of schmoozing and interviewing at the university. They ordered burgers, fries, and tall beers and sat on the deck overlooking the water.

 

“Do you think they’ll offer you the position?” Jaime asked.

 

“I think they just might. They asked what kind of salaries I was accustomed to receiving.”

 

“That’s Riverland for you.” He snorted.

 

“Would you take an offer from them?” Brienne asked, beaming at the prospect.

 

“I just might.” Gail winked. “It’s one of Ann’s favorites out of all the possibilities I’ve considered. She told me to tell you hi and hello. She’s real sorry she couldn’t come with me.”

 

“I’m sure we’ll see her soon.” Brienne put her chin in her hand.

 

“So…what do you think? Are we going ring shopping tomorrow before you head out?” Jaime teased, dodging Brienne’s attempt to kick him under the table. Gail laughed, fully used to his absence of subtley after a year or so of getting to know him. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples.

 

“I don’t know, man. It still gives me the heebie jeebies.”

 

“Just do what I did. Tell her you’ll wait for _her_ to ask _you_.” Gail and Brienne nearly choked on their food in unison.

 

“You did what now?” Gail bubbled over with laughter and then punched Brienne on the arm with a loose fist. “You somehow neglected to mention THAT!”

 

“You never told her? Can I tell this story?” Jaime asked. “I’m not teasing you, I promise. I think it might be helpful.” Brienne nodded her permission, even if she was still looking at him like he was out of his mind. Jaime reached into his shirt and pulled out the chain with the ring she have given him. “When we first got together I don’t think there was any confusion in the way we understood one another…at least on my end. It wasn’t a fling or a betrothal but there was an attitude and expectancy of longevity that I don’t think I’ve ever had in a relationship before. It was serious, but quietly so. I’m guessing that’s how you feel about Ann.”

 

“Precisely.” She answered. Both Gail and Brienne were intrigued now, leaning forward on their elbows.

 

“Am I wrong?” Jaime teased Brienne.

 

“Not yet.”

 

“I didn’t even think that deeply about tradition until she gave me this.” Jaime continued. “She very plainly articulated that it wasn’t a proposal.” Brienne’s cheeks burned at the memory, sitting in that cove on Tarth so long ago. “But we rightly had a conversation about commitment and the future. I realized that this was such a deep and outward symbol of her feelings, that marriage was something I could foresee. One day. Maybe.” He winked in Brienne’s direction. She wrinkled her nose. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

 

“No, no. Keep going.”

 

“Marriage wasn’t necessary to my understanding of our relationship. Never was and never will be, I don’t think. The things I care about: the long term, a healthy partnership, safety, and all that…we exchanged it then. This is just a metaphor.” He tapped the ring. “Something tangible. But there was something extraordinarily meaningful about putting it to words. Explicitly, that is. It took any stress we could possibly have about the future out of the equation because we laid out all the answers to any insecurities. I told her that if making it legally declared was something she wanted, I would be on board. A hundred percent, no questions asked.”

 

“I definitely feel like I shouldn’t be party to this conversation but I’m nosy. Why is that, exactly?” Gail asked.

 

“Yah…why is that? I ‘d like to know too.” Brienne agreed, making all three of them laugh.

 

“We live in a world that still values grand romantic gestures and public documentation. I don’t think it’s wrong to want to buy into the old traditions a little bit. Marriage makes buying homes and bringing in children to those homes so much easier. Insurance, banking, taxes too for gods’ sakes. If, gods forbid, something happened to me I wouldn't want her to run into any legal troubles in the aftermath. On top of that we are a species with a bit of a possessive streak so for the right people, at the right time, it’s a logical step. It’s a legal status and a celebration. I also don’t believe that plain _want_ is a sin we should waste all that much time repudiating. Not this kind at least.” Jaime sat back. “How’s that?”

 

“Very interesting.” Gail said. “I’ve never been one to leave my wants and desires un-interrogated. But that’s what’s been gnawing at me. I just…want. What’s do you think, Bri?”

 

“I still don’t know. For myself I mean.” Brienne admitted, fidgeting a little in her seat as Jaime drew patterns on her knee under the table. “But I valued that conversation immensely. You can only say _I’m here for the long haul_ so many times. It’s a beautiful sentiment but…I don’t know….my father always emphasized how relationships need thought and effort and planning. I’ve been burned before because there was no understanding as to why the hell we were subjecting ourselves to partnership.” Gail and Jaime nodded sympathetically, knowing her experiences with a broken engagement and then a broken relationship. One man had viewed her as a pretty object and then another led her on, seeing her as a public shield to a private love affair with another man.

 

“Brienne told me about how hard Tarth is with marriage.” Jaime continued. “But times are changing. Places might stay the same but people don’t. You left. You found love and damn successful work. You won.” Gail smiled weakly, suddenly very emotional. Brienne blinked back a few tears as well. “Did Ann grow up in Casterly Rock?”

 

“Yah. Southside of town.”

 

“I may have been raised in the Lannister ivory tower, but Casterly has a beautiful and diverse partnership tradition. Look into their hand fasting rituals, if you’re interested. It pulls from Christian, pagan, and Seven traditions. It’s focused on harmony and adoration more so than exchange or law. I think you might like it.”

 

“Jaime Lannister the wedding planner.” Gail sighed, putting her chin in her hand. “You’re quite the fucking romantic, aren’t you?”

 

“My brother and I talk about these things a lot. We’ve both been trying to work ourselves out, with therapy and with each other. I needed to re-learn a lot of thing because I sure as hell wasn’t seeing it in my childhood home, particularly what it means to love and be loved. Being raised with the absence of all of it made me just…want.”

 

“And a poet. Sevens’ sake.” Gail drained the last of her pint and ordered another. Brienne choked out a laugh. She looked at her friend and put a hand over hers.

 

“I was worried that you didn’t think you were worthy or capable. Or that you and Ann were struggling. None of that is true. You two love each other so deeply and I…I want you to know you can do anything. Both of you deserve everything. Whatever you want should be yours to have together. Build a house. Get married. Fly a new banner. Do all of it or none of it, but on your terms.“

 

“Gods. I feel like I’ve just been in a counseling session. You two should collect payment for that.” Gail inhaled sharply. “Fuck Tarth.”

 

“Fuck Tarth.” Jaime raised a glass. Brienne snorted and put her face in her hands as two or three other patrons in the restaurant raised glasses in their direction.

 

“Fuck Tarth.” The strangers agreed.

 

“Did you know that Pops was the one to name me?” Gail asked. Brienne looked genuinely surprised. “Abigail Joy Goodwin. I never had anything else.”

 

“You were about five when you were adopted, weren’t you?”

 

“My birth parents never named me. I was a home delivery. A midwife gave me check ups but I was never taken to a hospital or a doctor. I didn’t have a birth certificate or vaccines until Archie took me in.”

 

“Fuck’s sake.” Brienne muttered.

 

“Do you…remember them?” Jaime asked.

 

“Vaguely. But it’s enough to put a bad taste in my mouth. I remember being in a court room, sitting with the child protection liaison while they fought it out in front of a judge. One time my mother pointed at me and said _look what you made me do_ and he said _you wanted it_. That’s all I got from them. An _it_. But because the divorce laws are so draconian they had to wait 30 days for a divorce and 5 business days for the state to remove me from custody, so I went home with them that night.”

 

“What the hell for?” Brienne was appalled.

 

“Arranged marriages have ridiculous prenuptial clauses that have to be sorted. Goodness knows I complicated things. Dozens of children still get subjected to that nonsense. I've seen it in Dorne too.”

 

“This is why I think you should have to apply for a license to have children.” Jaime said. “My father blamed Tyrion for my mother’s death. It made him so cruel. He tried to make us cruel too. ” Jaime and Gail exchanged a long look of mutual understanding.

 

“Do you remember your mother? Or how your parents acted together before her death?” She asked. He nodded, smiling a little.

 

“Joanna was warmth incarnate. She and father were hardly ever in the same room. All his dealings were abroad when we were younger. But he called her Jo. They spoke to each other like business partners. They might have been, now that I think about it. They weren’t arranged by their families but they certainly didn't love each other. She wouldn’t stand for him yelling or raising a hand at us. She’d slap him across the face. When she was gone...it hurt so much.”

 

“I got pushed around too.” Gail continued. “I remember I wasn’t allowed to cry. I had a black eye the day they pulled me out. When the divorce was finalized they both abandoned parental rights. They didn’t like each other and they didn’t like me. The silly thing is that I don’t know their names either. I know they were offspring from the Stormson and Welling clans, well respected and wealthy ancestral families on Tarth. They came home to Tarth just to get married. They left the island immediately after the divorce. Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed it all.”

 

“I think that too sometimes.” Jaime said. “Tywin never spoke of Joanna as a real person, not in front of us at least. Even when we asked. She was just fodder for abusing Tyrion and grooming Cersei.” He took another sip of his beer. “When I was still speaking to my sister, we never could get our memories to agree on the color of her eyes or whether or not she sang to us or taught us how to read. She only remembers our parents fighting and shouting and beating each other, unprovoked. She's hateful. And she blames both of them.”

 

“That’s the stuff that kills me.” Gail said, thumping a loose fist on the table top. “All that for what? Confusion and frustration and pain. There was no good reason.”

 

“None at all.” Jaime agreed. “It should have been stopped." Brienne reached for his hand under the table.

 

"I think you two were a pretty good reason." She said. Jaime smiled, squeezing her hand hard. "I don't think everything happens for a reason. I don't think there's a lesson buried in ever trauma or hardship, but I hardly think your presence in the world is random or lucky." They fell into a quiet silence, hunched over the table with their drinks. The wind changed direction. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky a half dozen beautiful colors. Gail took out her phone to snap a picture.

 

“You ever wonder if it’s the slightest bit genetic?” She asked, sending the photo off to someone via text. Probably Ann.

 

“You’re not them.” Brienne said quietly. “Both of you. You’re better than any of them could ever dream of being.”

 

“I think Tywin and Cersei lose sleep at night over Tyrion and I living so well.” Jaime mused, tracing a knot hole in the table with a smile on his face. “Not that you get much sleep in prison in the first place…” Gail laughed, throwing her head back.

 

“May they die mad.”

 

“Cheers to that.” Brienne added, signaling for the check. Gail snatched it out of her hand.

 

On the walk back to the house Gail linked an arm through Brienne’s. They were a bit tipsy and it took a joint effort to walk in a semi-straight line. Jaime kept a few steps behind them on the sidewalk.

 

“If I want to get married, I should get married. Right?” Gail posited. Her back was straight and her shoulders were square. There was some confidence in her voice now.

 

“Well, another consenting party is involved.” Brienne pointed out. “And only if it means something to both of you.”

 

“I think doing it and doing it right would mean a great deal to me.” Gail decided after a moment. “So now…all I have to do is figure out if it means something to Ann.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“Right. Great.”

 

“Easy.”

 

"I feel like-" Gail abruptly tried to jump the railing separating them from the lake. It took a joint effort by Jaime and Brienne to prevent her from diving face first into the water. "Gail!" Brienne locked an arm around her shoulders as they kept walking. Jaime inserted himself between her and the railing. Gail was trying to decide between laughing, crying, and swearing and ended up doing a combination of all three.

 

"Oh fuck." She scrubbed her hands over her face. "I'm really going to ask her."   

 

"The things we do for love." Jaime laughed. Brienne felt a sudden wave of deja-vu, but watching her best friend and partner dissolve into hysterical, nonsensical laughter banished the ominous feeling and made something warm bloom in her gut.  


	4. Are We? Would You? Could I?

Gail went to a final brunch with the Riverland research commission Sunday morning. They promised to be in touch within a week regarding their hiring decision. Jaime and Brienne met her for coffee afterwards at a cozy place downtown. They sat in cushy chairs and talked about much lighter matters, laughing often and probably annoying other patrons. By the time Gail had to leave and catch her east bound train they were all in high spirits.

 

“Thanksgiving is a rotten holiday, but all the Goodwins will be gathering at me and Ann’s place for a good dinner or two. Join us if you can. Bring whoever you want.” Gail said, shouldering her bag. 

 

“We’ll do our best.” Jaime agreed. Brienne smiled at how easily he answered. “Will you be on Tarth for Christmas? We’re thinking about spending some time out there before the Spring semester resumes.” 

 

“Absolutely. Bluegill and trout fishing will be prime around then. We'll pack up the boat.” Gail went up on tip toe and wrapped her arms around Brienne’s neck, forcing the taller woman to bend over. "Stop buying healed boots you goddamn giraffe."

 

"I could lend you some. Students need to see you from behind podium, you know." They laughed. Brienne kissed her on both cheeks.

 

“Be kind to yourself, G.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“Love you most.”

 

~

 

Jaime took the afternoon off from editing in the study. They laid on the couch and watched mindless TV for a solid hour or so before his fingers wandered up the front of her shirt. He kissed her deeply. They luxuriated in the intimacy, moving slowly and carefully. He turned the TV off once her shirt was off and he was lying between her thighs. He kissed the tops of her breasts and sucked on both sides of her neck, only stopping to look at her, sinking his fingers into her hair and cradling her head in his hand.

 

“Hi.” She said, sliding her hand around his wrist, sweeping her thumb across the back of his hand.

 

“Hello.” She tilted her hips up against his. “How are you feeling?” He brushed his nose against hers and kissed her again, obviously in no hurry to get a verbal response.

 

“I’m okay. Why do you ask?” She asked between kisses. He breathed deeply out of his nose and flicked his tongue against hers. She hummed, hitching a leg over his.

 

“Lot of heavy conversations this weekend.” He started to move down her body, licking and kissing between her breasts in a downright reverent manner.

 

“True.” She acknowledged. “I’m okay.”

 

“Did it bother you?” It was hard to focus with his fingers hooked around her belt, pulling her jeans down far enough for him to kiss her panty line. She squirmed.

 

“Talking about marriage? No. I was…mmm, it was nice. Really nice.” He chuckled at her distracted tone. She tugged on the sleeve of his v neck. He sat up far enough to help her pull it off before going back to sucking a hickey onto her hip. She moaned then.

 

“Beautiful.”

 

“Just take your pants off already.”

 

“Bossy, bossy.” He mumbled, shooting up to kiss her on the mouth, hard and passionate. It took longer that it should have to get her pants off thanks to the lazy grinding and groping system. Once her jeans were scrunched around one ankle she seized his hip and moved her panties to the side. "Oh fuck." He mumbled, following her lead. 

 

In the slightly sweaty aftermath they found themselves lying on the floor, stroking and kissing each other’s skin until their backs started to hurt from the hardwood below them. He was suspiciously quiet until joining her in the shower, resting his chin on her shoulder and rubbing circles on her back. “Do you want to get married, Brienne?” He asked, so quiet she thought she had imagined it. She stepped further into the spray, turning around to look at him. Her brow was furrowed.

 

“Do you?” She asked. He slipped his arms around her waist. She drew her fingers through his beard and watched him intently.

 

“I would love to be your husband. If you would have me.”

 

“Mr. Evenstar.” She mused, making them both laugh. She kissed him tenderly and rested her forehead on his briefly. “I don’t think I’m ready yet.” She admitted quietly. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Hush.” There was no hint of disappointment in his expression. He smiled and kissed her again. “I love you. That’s all that matters.”

 

“Do you mean that?”

 

“I do. I’ll pinkie swear it. Everything else is extra.” He held up a closed hand, pinkie finger extended. She laughed, hooking her own around it to complete the promise. He kissed the knuckles of her other four fingers.

 

“One day. Maybe.” She said softly. “I want you. I have you. I really, really enjoy you and this home and our work. I’m so happy right now. I'm not ready to change it. Even in a small way.”

 

“We’ve got nothing but time. It doesn’t matter how we spend it. I’m not waiting on anything.” They rocked back and forth ever so slightly. He raised an eyebrow when a rather mischievous look appeared on her face. She slipped to the side and pushed the shower head up, letting him suddenly get blasted in the face by the water, full force. He sputtered and coughed, momentarily blinded. He reached for the shower head and bent it back towards her to repay the favor.

 

"JAIME." She shrieked and struggled to point it down again. They stood there couching and giggling for awhile. “I love you. I wouldn’t marry anyone else.” She was joking, but judging by how soft his gaze turned he took it deeply to heart. He pushed up to kiss her ardently. Over and over. Again and again.

 

She wrapped herself up in a linen robe that fell to her knees and crawled into bed. He stayed in the ensuite a few minutes longer, trimming and cleaning up his beard. He joined her a moment later, laptop and notebook in tow. She pillowed her head on his leg and listened to him talk to himself about the tasks for the coming week. His voice lulled her into a deep Sunday afternoon nap.

 

~

 

Another dream. This time it was sweltering hot. She and Jaime were lying in a hard bed covered in fur pelts. He was cast in firelight. His haired beard were ragged and there were bruises on his neck and chest. It was so hot. Hot enough to sweat. But she didn’t pull away. He was telling her a story she couldn’t quite hear, smiling. Her heart ached.

 

And then it was cold. Frigid. The fire was out. She was still beneath the furs but he was dressing. He picked up a sword and left. Her own voice echoed in her ears, making her stomach drop. _He’ll die out there, Brienne_. She tried to protest but was immediately hushed. _No. He will._

 

~

 

The sun was still out when she opened her eyes. He was still working next to her in bed, absently stroking her back. She was still lying in his lap.

 

“Were you dreaming?” He asked, looking up from his notes.

 

“Yah.” She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “How long did I sleep?”

 

“An hour or so.” He moved his hand up to knead at the tension collecting in the crook of her neck. “Was it a Jaime-dream?” He teased, tugging at her ear. She pinched her eyes closed again as he massaged away a knot in her shoulder muscle.

 

“I wish they’d stop.” She said. He moved gentle fingers to her temple and hair line, tracing and caressing.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Not your fault.” He closed his laptop and put his work aside.

 

“Do you want to talk to somebody about it?”

 

“Gail sent me some articles.”

 

“Have you considered…a less empirical explanation?” She laughed lightly. He leaned back on the headboard. She rolled onto her back and fidgeted with the tie of her robe. He softly traced the curve of her exposed breast.

 

“Should I get my aura read?” She joked. 

 

“Align your chakras.” He tickled her collar bone. She snickered and batted his hand away.

 

“Communicate with my past lives, maybe.” She stretched and folded her arms behind her head. “I wouldn’t hate a yoga class. Maybe I need to relearn how to breathe and relax.”

 

“Tyrion swears by it. Says it empties his mind better than alcohol.”

 

“Mmm, Sansa told me she got him hooked on it.” They chuckled at the image of the two of them going yoga together. “I wonder what I’m trying to tell myself with all this. They’re always so different, but similar at the same time.”

 

“Do you get to talk back, in the dreams?” He asked.

 

“Not really. But it reacts to what I want to say. Feels a bit like being underwater.”

 

“Try asking yourself what it's about next time.” She looked up to make sure he wasn’t teasing. He looked serious and painfully sympathetic. She remembered the dreams he used to have. Walking away, leaving her weeping. Dying under rubble. Dying with Cersei. Cersei killing him. She could only remember having these dreams since her father’s funeral, but Jaime’s had started much earlier, around the time he lost his hand. In a brief period of overlap they had similar dreams reformatted in a half dozen scenarios: being without each other.

 

“Is that what you did?” She asked. “You just asked yourself to stop?”

 

“Yah.”

 

“Did they go away?”

 

“Mostly. With time and a pinch of therapy. They certainly slowed down. Now I remember having them like…once or twice a month. Sometimes less.”

 

“And what were your dreams telling you?” He stroked her arm and side while he thought about it.

 

“Staying still. Slowing down. Moving forwards instead of backwards.” He decided. She bit her lip and tried not to think about how that seemed to line up with the plot of her own dreams, but from his perspective. “It’s okay, Bri. You’re okay. It’s your brain, after all.”

 

“We can hope.” She said morosely. He laughed.

 

“Come here, let me kiss you.” She acquiesced and let herself get lost in it. When he blew a loud raspberry on her exposed shoulder she shrieked.

 

“You’re so gross.” She hit his shoulder with a loose fist but wrapped her arms around his neck anyway. He drew his legs up to support her. He giggled and kissed her sweetly to make up for it.

 

“So how do you feel about having kids?”

 

“Jaimeeee.” She groaned, hiding her face in his neck.

 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” His chest shook with barely contained laughter. “Sort of.”

 

“You only thinking about Tormund Gianstbane chatting me up that one time.” She accused. Now that truly eons ago. They had only been properly dating a few weeks. Jaime was reaching the end of his recovery but his arm was still in a sling. Absolutely no one knew they were more than colleagues. There was a university gala with an open bar and academics from several institutions in attendance. A very drunk Tormund got the chance to beg for the honor of raising her progeny before Jon Snow could haul him off. Brienne had to drag Jaime into another room by the belt and there was never another question as to why they came into work together nearly every morning.  

 

“First of all, it was terrible pick up line.” He kissed her neck. 

 

“So gross.” She agreed. 

 

“Second of all, you’re half right.” She snickered, leaning up to kiss his cheek before sliding out of his lap and arms. She began rooting through the dresser for proper clothes. He seemed to be in mourning as he watched her dress but the robe was getting a little too breezy to be comfortable. She pilfered one of his long sleeve flannels and pulled on some leggings. 

 

“I’ll get you pregnant first.” She said, nonchalantly, throwing the discarded robe at his face. He threw his head back and laughed, barely catching the garment with his hand.

 

“Damn straight.”   


	5. I Wanna Know If You'll Be My Girl

October and November were always the busiest months of the academic year. All professors were overcommitted trying to wrap one semester while prepping for the next, half their senior students were prepping for the winter graduation ceremony, and all their other students were frantically seeking advice as to how they should register for the Spring semester.

 

Brienne found great comfort in Pod, who had no problem calming anxious underclassmen and going over their individual degree plans infinite times. He even gave her three journal articles one final grammar check before she sent them off to their respective publications. The prospect of adding more citations to her resume was a real treat considering how much grading she was about to find herself doing. Midterms were wrapping and finals were looming in the distance.

 

Jaime finished the second copy edit of his book in November and there was a spring in his step again.

 

“Only had to sever one chapter and 20 pages here and there.” He said cheerfully, dropping the finished project on her desk one morning.

 

“No easy feat.” She pointed out. He had spent literal months tearing his hair and losing sleep over the revisions. 

 

“Haven’t you heard poor Davos talk about his second book? The publishers made him redact a whole third of the manuscript in editing. I got off easy.”

 

“Davos rambles.” She shrugged. “You’ve always been better with words.”

 

“Thanks to you.” He swooped down to kiss her cheek before retreating to his own office, late for another meeting no doubt. “Would have given up on the whole bloody mess if you hadn’t shown me all your tricks.” Between the brutal recovery period that came with rehabilitating his severed arm and his mild dyslexia, it seemed like traditional typing and digital writing were impossible feats. He could manage texts and emails no problem but prolonged work was agonizingly slow and frustrating to boot.

 

“You would have discovered speech to text tools eventually.” She called after him.

 

“I’m as stupid as I am handsome.”

 

“So not very stupid, then.” Other professors who had their office doors open chuckled at her quip. Jaime pouted. “And there’s your headshot for the book cover.” She teased. “Your face will stick like that one day.”

 

“That’s really all that’s left, isn’t it? Slapping a cover on it and throwing it out there.” He shouldered a bag but leaned on her doorjamb again, obviously not all that concerned about making it too whatever appointment he was late to. “Do you think anyone will read it?”

 

“I’ve already added a few chapters as a reference text to next year’s _Women and Politics_ course.” She pointed out. 

 

“Shit. No one is going to read it.” She gave him a playful glare over the top of her computer monitor but uncharacteristic anxiety was still tattooed across his face.

 

“Jaime you’re not really worried about it, are you?” She asked. He shrugged. “The Riverland University publishing house would not have worked so hard on perfecting and printing your work if they didn’t think they could exploit you for profit.” He choked on a laugh and made a show of looking around and down the hall.

 

“Don’t anger the gods now.”

 

“Why? Because I’m right?”

 

“Cause you’re _always_ right.” He sighed. 

 

“Are you late for something?” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. He checked his watch.

 

“Right once more.” He knocked over a stack of papers leaning over to kiss her before speeding off.

 

By the time their short Thanksgiving break rolled around they were too exhausted to do much else but crawl in bed and grade when they weren’t sleeping. Brienne hated that they missed the Goodwin festivities but she phoned in Thanksgiving day to talk to all of them. Archie Senior and Archie Junior’s children kept Jaime on the line for a solid hour.

 

The situation quickly remedied itself by Gail and Ann visiting the following weekend to look at apartments. Gail had been offered the dual teaching and research position at Riverland’s medical school and she had accepted it, starting date set for January. Much to Brienne’s shock and Jaime’s delight Gail had plotted a brilliant ruse, which she posed to them during a routine Skype lunch date the day before she flew in with Ann.

 

“So there’s like five places that Ann really wants to see, I double booked two of the tours on purpose. That’s where ya’ll come in.”

 

“I’m not following.” Brienne furrowed her brow and picked at her salad. Jaime chuckled as he drug a chair around her desk to sit next to her.

 

“I’m guessing I go with Ann to one tour while you and Brienne go do something else.” He said. 

 

“Well we’ll still see the unit of course. I need pictures to complete the cover-up. But yes, that gives me and Brienne time to hunt down that jeweler I read about online.” Brienne almost spit out her lemonade. Jaime pat her on the back to soothe the coughing fit.

 

“You’re going to-? You? A -a ring? You want to buy a ring?“ She stuttered. Gail nodded, blushing nervously. But her eyes were bright and her grin was so wide her dimples popped out. “Oh Gail. I’m so happy.”

 

“Don’t get weepy. She hasn’t said yes yet.”

 

“Did you talk about it or is it a surprise?” Jaime asked.

 

“We talked about it. Cried about it. But agreed on it.” Gail said, sighing happily. “But that was awhile ago and we didn’t put a concrete time line to anything. I thought it might be nice to ask during the Christmas holidays. We’re getting both our families together for the first time, on Tarth.”

 

“We’ll be there. I promise.” Brienne swore.

 

“That’s perfect.” Jaime agreed. “We might have some stowaways come visit us on Christmas Eve.”

 

“The more the merrier. There’s always room at the ranch. I’d love to see Sansa and Tyrion again.” Gail beamed.

 

“I’m sure we’ll have enough beds at the house.” Brienne started counting on her fingers. “It’s just Tyrion, Sansa, and Arya, right?”

 

“They convinced Bran to take some time off.” He reminded her. “Gendry might swing it. Bronn has threatened to bring his new lady and baby around before the New Year.”

 

“Sansa couldn’t persuade Jon to come down?” Brienne rubbed her temples, trying to remember.

 

“No, I think she and Arya are going to him the day after Christmas.”

 

“Oh thank fuck.” Brienne muttered to herself. “This is going to be a chaos.”

 

“Wait till you meet Ann’s brothers.” Gail sighed.

 

“Plural brothers? I thought she just had one sister and one brother?” Brienne questioned.

 

“Mmm, by blood from her father’s first marriage. He had two boys with his second wife. They’re all coming with their respective partners. Good lads. You’ll like them a lot.”

 

“Seven hells, now it’s a party.” Jaime laughed.

 

“Chaos.” Brienne repeated. “You better plan to say something nice if you’re proposing in front of an audience that big.”

 

“Or have a couple shots of Northern Whiskey in me, at the very least.” She agreed.

 

“You know I have much better bargaining skills than Bri, want me to tussle with the jeweler instead?” Jaime offered. Brienne scoffed.

 

“You literally tipped 80% on a takeout bill this week.” She refuted. 

 

“Shush. The delivery boy was cute, I got nervous.” He joked. She elbowed him even though she and Gail were shaking with laughter. “You don’t have to be great with numbers to bargain.”

 

“I would argue that being great with numbers is, in fact, the only thing you need to be great at. Besides, Gail need’s my hand to size Ann’s ring.”

 

“Ann’s closer to my height that yours.”

 

“Height’s got nothing to do with it.” Brienne stole a chip from Jaime’s lunch. He took a sip off the top of her lemonade in retaliation. “We both played basketball when we were younger and she’s lent me jewelry for special events before. Our ring sizes on the middle three fingers match.” Jaime experimentally pushed his hand down on top of Brienne’s to compare the sizes of their hands. Her fingers were longer by by a quarter inch and a few hairs wider.

 

“Always the bridesmaid.” He sighed. She laughed, turning her hand over to hold his properly.

 

“Gross.” Gail said. “Anyway, if this works, I’ll let you take me suit shopping, Jaime. Brienne is too much of a yes-man when it comes to clothes.” 

 

“You look good in everything.” Brienne interjected. “And it’s going to work. I'm calling it now.”

 

"You owe me five bucks if she says no." 

 

~

 

Despite Brienne’s notion that Gail and Jaime were too giddy to keep secrets, the ring heist went off without a hitch. She went with Gail to see a beautiful studio full of windows downtown. While Jaime and Ann checked out a two bedroom unit down the street, she sat in the attic studio of a local artisan and let a jeweler examine her hands while Gail poured over samples of gem stones and metal. Brienne wasn’t sure why so many measurements and proportions were necessary, but the little old man was famous and Gail was enthralled with the art. She ended up picking three small sapphires and a white gold band shaped like a crown.

 

“Perfect.” Brienne said. Gail was teary when she paid the man and gave him her work address. He would send it the following week. On their way out she was bubbling over with laughter.

 

~

 

December snuck up on them. One day she was lecturing, the next she was writing final exams, and then out of nowhere it was time to pack up for the holidays. Tarth was gorgeous during Christmas. Dustings of snow fell overnight, coloring the evergreen forests and the sand of the endless beaches.

 

She and Jaime arrived a few days early to clean up the cottage and get some rest before the waves of guests arrived for Christmas festivities. After a a few lazy days in bed they got up with the sun to fence on the beach. The resistance the sand offered made for a whole new sort of duel. It was exhilarating.

 

On the third day of sleeping, eating, recovering, and fencing…Jaime won a match. And he even got Brienne to drop her saber. He froze. She whipped her mask off, beaming. She raised her hand to signal the yield. The sea and wind roared in their ears. 

 

"Gods!” He threw his mask and then his saber over either shoulder before launching at her, throwing his arms around her waist and lifting her clean off her feet. She shrieked as he abruptly lost balance. They both tumbled into the sand, falling apart laughing.

 

“I told you!” She thumped his chest. He kissed every inch of her face, ever so gleefully. Spray from the waves and sand were bleeding into their hair and eyes and mouthes but they couldn’t be bothered. They didn't say anything but it was heavily implied.  _I love you. I love you. Holy shit, I love you._

 

“You dumbasses are gonna catch a cold out there!”

 

“And probably some public indecency charges!” They sat up and whipped around to find Sansa and Tyrion standing on the seawall, bundled up to the neck in scarves and puffer jackets. They must have seen them on the drive in. Jaime gave them two middle fingers while Brienne jumped up to collect their abandoned things. “She didn’t let you win, did she?” Tyrion frowned as they clambered up to meet them.

 

“Nope. But he still won.” Brienne said. Tyrion softened immediately. Jaime lent down and they embraced fiercely. Sansa shrugged, as if it were no surprise. She put her arms around Brienne’s neck and kissed her cheek.

 

“He had the best teacher in Westeros, after all.”

 

“Sure did.” Jaime confirmed.

 

“Good thing we found you.” Tyrion cleared his throat. “I forgot where the bloody fairy tale cottage was.”

 

“Every single cottage here looks like a fairy tale cottage. It’s impossible” Sansa emphasized.

 

~

 

As Brienne predicted, Christmas Eve was chaos. Beautiful, warm, gorgeous chaos.

 

The party started at noon and proceeded well on into the evening. The Goodwin ranch was breathtaking with decorations and lights dripping off every eave and fence post. The main house had three Christmas trees and endless feasting. The Goodwin family meshed flawlessly with the Tyrells. Together they were loud and fond of all sorts of drinks, all taking turns tending the makeshift bar that had been set up in the kitchen.

 

The three Stark children, Gendry, and Tyrion were immediately and flawlessly folded into the bunch. Tyrion and Archie Senior got on like a house on fire. Archie made sure everyone met Ann’s mother, her only living parent, a stunningly sweet woman named Ero. Jaime recognized her dress as signifying membership to a native indigenous tribe from the region around Casterly Rock. He and Tyrion did a special sort of bow that brought tears to her eyes.

 

Gendry actually ended up finding long lost childhood friends in some of Ann’s brothers, some of whom were in native dresses of different colors from different regions. They had immediately recognized each other coming in the door and went on like they had never left off. Arya seemed immensely pleased to watch them interact. She spent much of the time with her arms around her boyfriend's waist. Sansa and Bran took a shining to the Tyrell boys as well.

 

No less than ten children bobbed and weaved between people’s legs. Four or five or so babies and toddlers were passed lap to lap. Brienne would have been utterly overwhelmed had Jaime not kept an arm around her waist and a thumb in her belt loop. He had always been better at mingling and oscillating between conversations. She let him lead despite how often he “accidentally” trapped them under some mistletoe. How he managed to make a silly Santa hat look attractive was beyond her. 

 

At one point Brienne found herself on a couch chatting with Ann’s delightful older sister. Gail was sitting on the floor leaning back on her legs. Jaime was on Brienne's other side. Ann was sitting on the arm of the couch holding her beautiful nephew.

 

“This is just brilliant.” Ann’s sister sighed. “I hope we make a habit of it.” Gail had started out the evening drinking heavily but was now frantically sucking down water and stuffing herself with bread in an attempt to sober up. Brienne rubbed the back of her friend’s neck in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. Gail reached back to clasp her hand. Brienne was smiling so hard it hurt.

 

Sansa was pulling Tyrion under the mistletoe and planting a kiss square on his mouth. The man looked equal parts frightened and delighted. Arya was telling a story that had half the kids, two of Ann’s brothers, and all of Ann’s sister-in-laws enraptured. Gendry and another Tyrell brother were wrestling in front of the hearth with the other half of the children. Bran had a Goodwin toddler in his lap and was spinning circles in his wheel chair, evoking shrieks of pleasure. He had made friends with Archie Junior and Evelyn rather quickly. At one point Rosie had been perched on the arm of his chair, getting him to smile and laugh as much as everyone else.

 

The room only fell quiet and still for Archie Senior, who rapped a butter knife against a champagne glass until he had everyone’s attention.

 

“If I haven’t gotten to see you yet, welcome welcome welcome to my home. I’m so glad you’re here. There’s no better way to celebrate the season of good will and warmth than with an abundance of both.” Someone’s little child loudly asked what _abundance_ meant and chuckles rippled through the group. “I’m always so thrilled to have all my children in the same room, let alone my grandchildren and their partners and their families. This is nothing short of Christmas magic. It’s only just now eight, but I thought we might have a toast before the little ones need to be tucked away.” There was a chorus of small complaints as the adults passed around bottles to top off glasses. Brienne seized Jaime’s knee and clamped down with a white knuckle grip.

 

“Seven hells, Bri.” She just directed his glance down to Gail, who was currently in possession of her hand. She was holding on tight enough to leave nail marks. Jaime tapped Gail on the head.“Ease up, Gail. I’m not looking to lose another limb.” When the three of them realized what was happening they choked on nervous laughter and relinquished their grips. Ann looked at them curiously. Archie garnered their attention again. 

 

“I’d like to invite my middle child to give this toast, as she has the most impressive university degrees out of all of us and I trust her to be the least inebriated thus far. I believe you all know my beloved Abigail. Come here, love.” Archie invited Gail in the front of the room and relinquished his spot. Brienne watch her friend trade nerves for determination as she looked at the crowded room of people before her.

 

“I want to say thank you, first of all. Ann and I thought it was about time to start a tradition. We needed to figure out if this would work before we invested in a holiday timeshare in an undisclosed location.” Laughter rippled through the group. Gail smiled. “Pops asked me earlier to talk about love and he’s lucky that I actually want to talk about love.”

 

Jaime wrapped an arm around Brienne’s shoulders. She leaned her head against his and took in a shaky breath. She was already on the verge of tears. Ann was looking at Gail like the whole world was in front of her. Like there was no one else in the room.

 

“We’re a lucky bunch. I’ll tell you why. I wasn’t born into a family so much as I was found by one. These old floors and walls around us were scrapped together by several generations of men who never imagined more than a few sons and a functional water mill.” More laughter punctuated the moment. “My brother, my sister-in-law, my baby sister, my nieces and nephews and father…my twin soul which resides in my best friend over there and her gorgeous love…I think we’ve spent a lifetime proving that the blood of the pack is just as thick as the water of the womb. We chose these titles and relations. We chose this place. Every year I think they are the greatest gift I will ever receive.”

 

“Hear hear.” Archie Junior agreed. Jaime left a kiss in Brienne's hair and tightened his grip. 

 

“And Tyrells…and our incredible guests, the Starks…we all should be proud of each other. Everything went wrong once, but you’re here. You’re whole and lovely and beloved. Some of you even had the goddamn energy to propagate.” Brienne rolled her eyes but everyone erupted into slightly delirious giggles. Gail took a sip off the top of her glass and and wiped her free hand on her jeans. “Forgive me, Ann says I play the fool when I’m nervous. Your children are beautiful. I love every single one of them. I’ve got pictures of them framed in my home.” Gail took a breath before continuing. “The point is, family is a choice. Love needs tending and care. So many lifetimes of strangeness and perseverance and deliberate choices and uh-ohs and mending brought us all right here. Our ancestors would be furious to know we have Goodwins, Tyrells, Lannisters, Starks, and Evenstars in the same bloody room. We diversified the hell out of those blood lines- by race and gender and love and status and occupation. If that’s not a mark of success I don’t know what is. We’re lucky. We’re thriving. It’s thrilling. It’s beautiful. I'm not sure if I believe in gods or afterlives yet but I do believe in the power and wisdom of one's soul. I believe our souls fought long and hard through lifetime after lifetime for a piece of this joy.”

 

"Yes ma'am!" Rosie cheered. There was some scattered applause and cheering. Gail raised her glass and the room followed suit.

 

“May we continue to tend and care. May we continue to grow together and bring out the best in one another and welcome guest after guest to our shared homes. May we build this family with adoration and respect. And Ann, my love-” Gail suddenly pulled the ring out of her pocket. It caught the candlelight and everyone gasped. Ann’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. “-can we do this next year? And every year after that?” Everyone watched as Ann got to her feet.

 

She pulled a whole ring box out of her own pocket, held it out to Gail, and nodded. The room was awash in shrieks and cries, sobbing and cheering and applause.

 

“YES GAIL. FUCK’S SAKE. MARRY ME.” Ann shouted over the din. Everyone immediately began to drink and celebrate. The remaining champagne bottles were popped. Gail pushed her way through the crowd so she and Ann could exchange engagement rings and weep against each other's necks. Brienne curled into Jaime’s side. He wiped her happy tears away and laughed.

 

"Those fools tried to do it on the same night." He ripped his Santa hat off and mopped his forehead with it. 

 

"Incredible." Brienne whispered. Jaime got up to congratulate their friends. Ann practically levitated off the ground.

 

“Look at that shit” She slapped Jaime on the chest with her left hand. “Gail wants to marry me.” Everyone was so full of awe and excitement nobody knew what to do with themselves. Brienne wrapped her arms around her best friend and tried to soothe her trembles. The ring Ann had given her was gorgeous. It was a small golden rose, just like the one on the Tyrell house banner. They watched Ann’s siblings and mother engulf her and fawn over the sapphire ring. Tyrion and Jaime were laughing and slapping each other on the back as they poured each other yet another drink.

 

The Tyrell men, despite some born to a different mother and raised in a different home, obviously all adored Ann and were besides themselves with happiness. They were practically roaring with it, letting their wives take their drinks from their hands so they wouldn't spill them everywhere. Aro began to chant some sort of blessing in another language and they all joined in, bouncing on their toes and taking turns embracing their sister. 

 

Brienne felt a pang, wondering is she could ever mimic such enthusiasm and energy for Jaime. _Oh._ Before she could cancel the thought something warm and deep and a little foreign settled in her mind. It wasn’t envy. Or disdain. It wasn't confused or analytic or cold. It wasn't at all ashamed or frightened.  _W_ _ant_ an inner voice whispered at her. _Want._ Uh oh. Gail pinched Brienne’s cheek to get her to look down.

 

“Now If I can do that in front of all them I think you can think about-”

 

“Shut up!” Brienne laughed, shaking off the strange feeling and cursing Gail's ability to basically read her mind. “This is about you. You crazy, brilliant, incredible girl.” Ann appeared from the throng, throwing an arm around each of them. "A thousand congratulations. No one deserves to celebrate their lives together more than you two." 

 

“I love you so much.” Ann said to no one in particular. Brienne extracted herself after a moment so the betrothed could kiss and embrace. Phones came out and everyone started snapping pictures. Jaime caught Brienne by the arm and pulled her close again. There was a lull where small children were put to bed upstairs and in other cabins. But then music started to play and the party carried on with dancing and singing and foolishness they would all regret in the morning. 

 

"Merry Christmas, Bri. Baby. I love you so much." Jaime said, spinning her around before holding on tight again. He was only slurring his words a little bit but they both still had alcohol in their hands. She laughed and let herself be held and kissed in front of everyone again. She hoped they all saw it. Witnessed it. Whispered about it, even.   

 

"I never knew..." She shook her head. "We should do this next year." She said, biting her lip.  

 

"Gods yes. Every year." 

 


	6. I, Personally, Will Stab You In The Eye

Brienne hadn’t realized how long she had gone without a dream until she had one again.

 

She was looking at Jaime’s back. It was dark. Cold. She could only just make out his profile. He was wearing dark clothes and the damn sword again. Voices were practically shouting in her head, her own included.

 

But when she called Jaime’s name he turned around.

 

The sword and the strange clothes were gone. He smiled and held out a hand towards her. She couldn't move but he started walking towards her.  _See._ She said to herself in her mind. The voices. The universe. Whoever was listening.  _Look. He's right there._

 

~

 

This Christmas was the best in Brienne’s recent memory.

 

Nobody woke until noon. The party had gone on into the wee hours, so the lot of them didn't even return to the house from the Goodwin ranch until three or four in the morning. They had a cozy, hang-over friendly brunch with Tyrion, Sansa, Gendry, Bran, and Arya. Brienne made pancakes and bacon. Sansa baked lemon muffins. Gendry fried hash browns. Tyrion made them magical Bloody Marys. Arya, Bran, and Jaime moaned at each other. Brienne couldn’t remember the last time so many people sat around the kitchen table of her childhood home.

 

They had all gotten each other gag gifts so lots of hideous underwear, sweaters, and socks were traded under the tree along with mini bottles of alcohol, a neon dildo, a gardening hoe, water pistols, free weights, an entire red fire hydrant, and a comprehensive DVD collection of Tom Selleck movies.  

 

The Starks and Gendry caught a plane north to go spend time with Jon, but not before Arya and Brienne threw down a couple of fencing matches in the back yard. Jaime’s gear was a bit big on the youngest Stark, but she and Brienne fell into a hypnotizing rhythm. Their friends cheered and laughed and heckled from the deck. They tied. Their goodbyes were bitter sweet and took twice as long as they probably should have.

 

Tyrion left an hour later. He was scheduled to give a series of speeches in the Iron Islands before the New Year. He and Jaime brewed coffee and sat in front of the fire together while Brienne showered. She watched them from the doorway awhile. Before they spotted her they were reminiscing and laughing, maybe still a little bit drunk from the Bloody Marys.

 

Once alone, Jaime took her to bed for the remainder of their Christmas afternoon. They napped and took turns pinning each other to mattress. It was indulgent, lazy, and languorous. When she got dressed for dinner she realized her neck, chest, and shoulders were tattooed with soft bruises and hickies. She turned to chastise him only to realize she was equally guilty.

 

“Should we wear matching turtle necks?” He cast a satisfied glance over her as he joined her in the bathroom, putting a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. She looked horrified by the idea. 

 

“I’ll wear a scarf.” She decided. “But if these don’t clear up in a week, you’re in trouble.” He giggled.

 

“Oh boy.” They went back to the ranch to have a late dinner with the Goodwins and Tyrells. Everyone had traded alcohol for water but it was just as glorious as the night before. The two clans were as good a match as Gail and Ann.

 

That night, back in Brienne’s place, they laid on the couch in front of the fire and watched another dusting of snow whip past the windows. They took turns playing old Christmas songs on Jaime’s phone, trying to see who knew the oldest, most annoying carols. 

 

“This was perfect.” He said, shimmying down to rest his head on her lap. She combed her fingers through his hair and hummed her agreement.

 

“Incredible.” She said.

 

“When’s the last time you spent Christmas here?” He wondered.

 

“High school, I think. Dad always traveled to see me at whatever school I was at. But when I was child…he would always put the tree on the second floor between me and Gally’s room. It would take up over half the hallway. It drove Mama crazy.” Jaime grinned. “But we loved it. It was magical. We would fall asleep on the floors of our rooms trying to catch Santa in the act.”

 

“We should get a tree next year. And start collecting decorations.” She smiled down at him and tweaked his beard.

 

“I’d like that.”

 

~

 

Ann and Gail didn’t have an ounce of patience to spare. By the end of December everyone knew to meet them at a certain art gallery in Casterly Rock on February 14th. Ann’s mother was going to officiate.

 

On New Years Eve Jaime and Brienne found themselves tucked into the corner booth of the only pub in town with their newly engaged friends, drinking Tarth’s famous craft ale. It was a full house, but the place was low-key and comfortable. Lots of leather, candle lanterns, animals heads, and cedar wood tables set the mood. Someone was playing great music. Ann and Gail look exhausted but delighted. The Tyrells had gone home that morning and the Goodwins had dispersed from the ranch, so they finally got a chance to breathe. They had a week to themselves before they moved from Dorne to Harrenhal. Jaime and Brienne were flying out of Tarth in three days. The thought of going back to work was a little painful, but Brienne was visibly giddy at the prospect of having Gail live just a train stop away and work just a block up the street from herself.

 

Tonight they were scheming. Ann had started a wedding Pinterest board as a joke but now she and Jaime were enthusiastically looking at pictures on her phone and making wild plans.

 

“Oh my god, babe, let’s make our own hand fasting cords.” Ann gasped. Gail snorted into her mug, sending foam in several different directions.

 

“How the hell do you even do that?”

 

“No idea, but I bet this nine part youtube series will tell me.”

 

“We gotta bust this up.” Gail stage whispered to Brienne, pointing to Ann and Jaime.

 

“I’m just saying, if you were getting married in my gallery, I would let you re-arrange the walls.” Jaime shrugged. 

 

“Do you not remember the Ikea furniture fiasco when we moved into our townhouse?” Brienne asked. 

 

“Oh do tell.” Ann giggled. Jaime attempted to reach over the table to shush Brienne but she caught his hand and pinned it to the table.

 

“He ruined a perfectly good set of barstools trying to reupholster the seats. And then the shelves he installed fell clean off the wall because he didn’t use anchors.”

 

“They don't look like they do anything. Have you ever even seen one of those before?” Jaime protested.

 

“Yes.” Gail and Ann said in unison.

 

“And then he put together the coffee table upside down and backwards.” Brienne continued.

 

“Where were you when all of this was happening?” Jaime tried to recall.

 

“Taking pictures of your dejected thinking face and sending them to me.” Gail answered.

 

“I defy you to find me someone who puts together Ikea furniture correctly the first time. It’s all pictures and arrows. Not a single bloody instruction.” Ann made a sympathetic face and slung an arm around his neck, ruffling his hair.

 

“Bless him for trying. I always just pay someone to do it.”

 

“That's funny, I don't remember ever being compensated for my labor.” Gail said. Ann covered Jaime's ears.

 

"You're telling me you don't count the time I-" Gail kicked her under the table. They bickered amongst themselves about DIY projects. Somewhere in the middle of their debate about curtain rods Brienne got up to fetch a second round of drinks.

 

Gail was the first to realize something was wrong. She stopped in the middle of her sentence, dropped her drink on the table, and took off. Ann and Jaime got whiplash turning around to see where she was going.

 

“Oh shit.” Ann swore. Some flaming asshole had an arm around Brienne’s waist and a hand in her belt, not letting go despite how firmly she was trying to step away without making a scene. She looked furious. Gail, who had absolutely no problem making a scene on her behalf, grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it behind his back so hard and fast his shoulder cracked. One of the asshole’s buddies came out of nowhere and grabbed Gail by the hair, hauling her several steps backwards.

 

“Abigail and Brienne, Tarth’s dykes in chief. Home for the holidays?” He said, loud enough for all to hear. The very laid back bar suddenly erupted in noise. Glass shattered. People shouted.

 

Brienne immediately bloodied the nose of the man who had a hold on Gail so she could wrench herself free. Gail kicked him in the balls. She was wearing Doc Martins so the force dropped the man to the floor. The first asshole tried to descend on Brienne again but was abruptly cracked across the jaw by a flying prosthetic arm. He went reeling backwards, nearly cross eyed from the force of impact. Some good samaritans restrained the assailants as the barkeep called the cops. Three young women ran up to throw their drinks on them and curse them out for touching other women like that.  

 

“Get behind me.” Jaime collected his arm and pushed Brienne behind his back. 

 

“I’m fine.” Brienne said, grabbing him by the shirt to keep him from taking a second run at the men. He spat in their general direction instead.

 

“Bastards!” Gail murmured. She was pale with rage. Brienne slapped some cash down on the bar top.

 

“We’ll take a growler. To go please.” She, Jaime, and Gail hurried out with it. He kept himself between them and the twats still struggling to free themselves. Patrons erupted into applause and boisterous laughter as Ann pepper sprayed the two men where they lay.  

 

The four of them walked in silence for half a mile before the adrenaline wore off. They sat on the seawall and people watched. Drunks were passing in and out of homes behind them. Some boats were clustered on the dark horizon, shooting off homemade firework displays. Further up the beach, teenagers were having a bonfire. The wind was cold but their blood was still singing. 

 

“Did you really just take your arm off...and throw it?” Gail broke the silence, watching Jaime re-strap his prosthetic into place.

 

“Yeah. I did.” The four of them looked at each other and promptly erupted into laughter, leaning on each other for support.

 

“It spiraled. Like a-a fucking football.” Ann was almost hiccuping.

 

“The- the look on his ssstupid face.” Brienne wiped her eyes. Jaime took the growler of ale from her so she wouldn’t drop it.

 

“The bruises he’s going to have from that…” Gail started snorting and then couldn’t stop.

 

“I panicked.” He admitted. “But Ann-“ He mimicked the way she had maced the guys. Knowing that the two assholes would be wounded and crying on the drive to the police station made them nearly lose it all over again.

 

“Oh my gods, Brienne you definitely broke that guy’s nose!” Ann picked the other woman's hand up to check for bruising. Finding none, she wiped away spots of blood with her sleeve.

 

"That'll be the least of his problems considering he probably lost a testicle." Brienne pointed out.

 

"At _least._ My girl always comes prepared." Ann slapped Gail on the thigh a couple times and affectionately tugged on the laces of her boots as they all coughed and sputtered and tried to catch their breathes.  

 

“W-who were those guys?” Jaime gasped between giggles.

 

“Fucking…" Gail shook her head. "The fucking Connington brothers. We went to school with them. Couple of grade-A dickheads. They always hated us.” She ran a hand through her hair. “What _the fuck_.”

 

“Honestly. What the fuck.” Brienne agreed. As they helped each other stand Gail jumped up on the sea wall and cupped her hands around her mouth.

 

“GET FUCKED CONNINGTONS. MY THREE WIVES GOT MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM.” She yelled back in the direction of the pub, which was now entirely out of sight. A car honked at them. Brienne wrapped both arms around her friend's waist and pulled her down before she fell down. Gail locked her in a similar embrace. They started walking again. They managed to finally stop laughing by the time they got back to the cottage.

 

“What’s a New Years Eve without a bar fight, really?” Ann asked as they curled up on the back porch furniture under quilts with fresh drinks in hand.

 

“Gets the juices flowing.” Jaime agreed. Brienne rolled her eyes but slipped an arm around him and kissed his temple as he laid on her shoulder.

 

“Just wait till the cops show up tomorrow morning.” She groaned, kicking on the deck so the porch swing would rock them.

 

“Oh c’mon. Old man Harrington’s boy is the chief around here now.” Gail pointed out as Ann got comfortable on her lap in the padded glider.

 

“ _Really_?”

 

“Oh yah. He don’t take no shit but he also doesn’t do shit. They’ll strap em down in the drunk tank and send them on their way with citations for disturbing the peace or something.” Gail took a long drink. Brienne narrowed her eyes. 

 

“Does Uncle Archie still buy steaks from Mr. Connington?”

 

“You evil girl. How brilliant of you.” Gail laughed gleefully.

 

“Oooooh you tattle-tales!” Ann sang.

 

“He’ll rip them a new one. No one can get back at a Connington like another Connington.” Gail explained. “Those big babies still work for the family butcher shop on the north side of the island. Their old man will go _hog wild_. Pun intended.”

 

“May their New Year be full of shit shoveling.” Jaime said, throwing back half his drink.

 

The New Year was born in a blessedly quiet and peaceful fashion with Gail and Ann giggling about wedding dresses. When Jaime’s watch hit midnight he kissed Brienne dotingly. Gail started to fake retch but Ann slapped a hand over her mouth, only removing it for a quick kiss.

 

“Happy New Year’s baby.” Ann said lovingly. Gail responded but it was muffled.

 

“I love you.” Jaime said. “I’m sorry that-”

 

“Hush.” She kissed him again. “You had my back. Like always.”

 

“A knight in shining armor, mate.” Ann agreed, screeching as Gail presumably slobbered on her hand. She frantically wiped her fingers on their shared blanket.

 

“Top of the line carbon fiber armor.” She said, once free of her silencer. They all laughed and passed around the growler, topping off their drinks. “This is going to be a good year. A good ass year. We’re going to make it a good year.” Gail looked at Ann so fondly it made everyone soft. Ann’s cheeks pinked.

 

“New year. New home. New life. Better jobs.” She listed. “I can’t wait to marry you.” Ann kissed Gail on the forehead. “Should we get a dog?”

 

“Fuck it. Let’s get a dog.”

 

“Seven hells, slow down. You're drunk.” Brienne giggled, reaching over to swat Gail on the arm.

 

“She’s right. Practical. We should get some fish first.” Gail sighed. Ann gasped.

 

“Let's get turtles.” The two of them immediately started discussing terrariums and botanical decor. Jaime dropped a chaste kiss on Brienne’s neck.

 

“Any resolutions this year?” He asked.

 

“Drink less than I did last year.” She took a long sip of ale. He chuckled as he sat up and slouched, pulling her against him. “I want to think less.” She said seriously. “Do more. And be light hearted about it.” He smiled at her so beautifully. She wrinkled her nose and fidgeted with the collar of his sweater. "What about you?”

 

“Oh oodles. None of which are appropriate for present company.” Brienne flushed as Ann roared with laughter.

 

“No go ahead, by all means. I’m looking for another reason to punch somebody’s lights out tonight.” Gail rolled up her sleeves.

 

“I’m resolving to say less.” He covered. The four of them welcomed the witching hour and the first moments of dawn with warm conversation, more wedding planning, and well earned laughter.  



	7. But Do You Like-Like Me?

The morning before their flight back to Harrenhal they visited her family’s resting place. The secluded beach where her father’s ashes had been spread was bitterly cold, but beautiful as ever. They stood and listened to the waterfall rush over the cliffs above them, dumping itself into the cove. He watched her watch the water. The tree line. The sky. The clouds. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sunk her chin into his shoulder. He wrapped firm arms around her waist and rocked back on his heals.

 

She thought about her father and mother. Her brother. Her sisters. She wondered if all their ashes had fully integrated themselves into the land and sea of the cove. She wondered if saplings and flowers and grass had grown in their place. She imagined her mother standing there with the girls on her hips, older than they got the chance to live. She imagined her father fishing with little Gally, younger than he had been when he died. There was a presence of sorts hanging over the cove. Maybe it was just the expectations of her own mind, maybe it was the warmth of Jaime’s attentions…maybe it was the culmination of years that brought them back to this spot or just something in the wind…but something was watching. Something warm and content and strange.

 

Jaime kissed the side of her head and pressed his face into her hair, breathing deeply. His hand spread open on her back and traced the line of her spine. Up and down and back again. She closed her eyes. She hadn’t prayed in half a life time, but she did then. She asked the universe for direction. For peace. For strength. She asked for the man in her arms to be allowed to stay there until they were grey and old. Her feet fell between his as they rocked back and forth. She fisted a hand in his coat and let a few tears roll over her cheeks. 

 

“I love you.” He said simply. She pressed them even more tightly together, kissed the crook of his neck, and let her tears dry on his scarf.

 

“Do you?” She asked. 

 

“Endlessly.”

 

“I think…I think we were always meant to be like this. I think we are each other’s path.” A dozen other words tripped on the tip of her tongue. He inhaled deeply.

 

“I think so too. The only path. For me, at least.” He stepped backwards and she let him. He caught her chin in his warm hand and kissed her. She kissed him back. She smiled when his lips touched her cheek bones. Her nose.

 

"Sorry." She wiped at her eyes.

 

“It’s okay, Bri.” He whispered.

 

“It is.” She agreed after a moment, the images of her lost family fading as his face came into sharper focus. She lifted a hand to caress the side of his face. “Let’s go home.”

 

~

 

The start of the new term in January was almost too easy. Brienne found herself lecturing three extremely enthusing classes, even though one was technically outside of the department. 

 

There was an entry level research writing lab for first year humanities majors she co-taught with Davos on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Watching young students learn to sharpen the tools and weapons of the trade was enlightening. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday she had small morning and afternoon seminars. For the first time in her teaching career she had complete and solo creative control over the topics and course design. Tenure certainly had its perks.

 

The first was an introduction to vital female authors throughout history which she called _Re-Defining Womanhood._ The second was an advanced medieval literature course that covered anything and everything about story telling. Jaime suggested she call it _Tales as Old As Time_ but she settled on _The Bear and the Maiden Fair: A Millennium in Folk Literature_. Jaime was only teaching one course, but his advanced prose for journalism class was so popular he had four sections of it to spread throughout the week.

 

Those two Wednesdays a month where Gail and Brienne had lunch over Skype became a weekly, in person event at a cafe across the street from Gail’s office. Every other week they joined Jaime and Ann, all of them meeting up outside the history museum where Ann had gotten work as an archivist. Her dreams were thinning out. Every time she was confronted with heartbreak or trouble she had a mantra ready:  _He's right there and I'm right here._

 

With political terms coming to an end and election season coming up, Sansa and Tyrion were traveling more and more. They came as often as their campaign itineraries brought them past, through, or to Harrenhal. Arya relinquished all political titles and bought a beautiful, isolated piece of land in the North. She and Gendry were currently backpacking through the mountain ranges of Essos, sending texts and posting photos whenever they stopped somewhere with a wifi connection.

 

Brienne's life felt full, populated, and robust. Maybe this is what they meant by domestic bliss. 

 

~

 

Jaime had hounded Brienne about writing the forward for his forthcoming book for months after the first copyedit, but the publisher echoed Brienne’s firmly held opinion that no one would be remotely interested in introductory materials from another academic. Jaime was furious, but Brienne insisted that having her name in the dedication was a grand enough gesture.

 

As his work was so political in nature, his agent and the publishing board suggested snagging a journalist or a politician from a list they had compiled. None of the names sounded remotely familiar. A google search didn’t yield anything particularly exciting.

 

“What about Tyrion?” Brienne wondered that same night over dinner. They were at one of Jaime's favorite restaurants but he was nervously picking at his food. “He would make the time if you asked.”

 

“None of the people on their list are very vocal. And they hold legislative positions. Committees. Lobbies. Not executive powers. My brother is…not neutral ground.”

 

“What’s the point of getting a politician, then?”

 

“Wish I fucking knew.” He sighed, laughing lightly into his wine glass.

 

“You could convince them. They’ve already got one Lannister, what’s another in the mix?” She teased.

 

“The end of that meeting…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and made a disbelieving face. Her stomach flipped. “Someone on the board of directors said they needed to go all out on this to attract readers. Another said that Cersei wouldn’t turn down a check for the job.” Brienne’s face hardened. “It was a joke. A bad joke, but-”

 

“I hope you told them, to fuck off.”

 

“Yeah, I walked out.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s a lot of apologetic emails sitting in my inbox.” He worried his bottom lip. “It’s strange though. They don’t know.” He shrugged. “There’s so much people will never know.”

 

“Would you rather they did?” He pondered her question, taking a fork full of pasta from her plate. They had worked through this problem many times before. Every now and then he still needed reminding. Though Tywin and Cersei were all but dead to him, living out the rest of their respective lifetimes in maximum security prisons, his heart was too good to ever forget them. The fact that the Lannister name was inextricable from their crimes didn’t help any. She gave him a half-smile and nudged the toes of her loafers against his under the table.

 

“No.” He decided. "They know enough." She pushed his own plate closer to him.

 

“Eat.” She said. “You and Tyrion are shaping yourselves in your own image now. Nobody will ever know everything about you and that's okay.”

 

“Present company excluded.” He started to eat, appetite finally kicking in.

 

“You don’t surprise me any more, but I’m still learning you.” She conceded. “I know you'll always worry that people see you through the lens of your father and sister. For some people that will probably be true. But I think, even through that lens you are extraordinarily different. I also think that deep down, most everyone you’ll come across is willing to learn about that difference. The people that matter anyway.“ He smiled then.

 

“What have you learned about me lately, my lady?” She huffed. 

 

“At the risk of stroking your ego…I find your enduring anxiety about releasing this book extremely endearing.” He laughed.

 

“It’s my baby.” He acknowledged. “I’m scared shitless, but we’re fully dilated and started to crown. There’s no epidural and no going back.”

 

“Oh for the love of-“ She groaned at the metaphor. A waitress came by to freshen up their glasses. “Call Tyrion in the morning. And your agent. He’s the right man for the job.” He chuckled.

 

“Yes, love.”

 

"I believe in this. I believe in you." He had the audacity to look genuinely encouraged by her words. It made her heart flutter, ever so slightly.  

 

~

 

The sensations she discovered Christmas Eve, the _wanting_ , never really went away. They persisted on a slow burn. Nothing had changed…but after awhile, everything had changed. It came to a head at the end of January, when the print tests of his book arrived.

 

It was just an average Wednesday afternoon at the office. She was getting ready to go teach a class when he came flying in, slamming her door shut behind him.

 

“Merry Second Christmas.” He said, dropping a box on her desk. He reached in a drawer for a pair of scissors and ripped the package open. There they were. Hard copy and paper back versions. Beautifully designed book jackets. His name in print. She laughed.

 

“Look at that!” She immediately picked one up and started flipping through it, remarking on how brilliant the fonts and paper choices turned out. Tyrion’s forward was light, funny, affectionate, and made for a perfectly appropriate introduction to the work. There was something beautiful about the two brothers immortalizing their mutual respect and affection. After watching literal years of labor, it was utterly satisfying to hold the results of his hard work in her hands. “You-“ When she looked up it felt like every ounce of air had been wrung out of her body.

 

He was tearing up, watching her page through his book as if she were holding his heart in her hands. If he blinked he would probably start weeping. He loved so much and so hard. Maybe too much and too hard. He loved his work. He loved her. He stepped closer and pushed up on his toes. She kissed him until a phone alarm reminder her she had a class to teach. They were both fully pink and mussed.

 

“We should celebrate.” She mumbled. He kissed her one more time. “Later. Tonight.” She caught her breath, wiping at her mouth and collecting her bag.

 

“I’ll pick up some Thai on the way home.” She double-taked.

 

“That’s all you want to do?”

 

“I want to get extraordinarily drunk on our roof and call in sick tomorrow.” She laughed again.

 

"Okay." 

 

It hit her all at once while she was lecturing and conversing with students, like most good ideas did.

 

The topic of the day was a notorious medieval folktale: the robber bridegroom. The tale was formatted within a genre of fables which presented early Christian morals, emphasizing the dichotomy of good versus evil with good as a naturally prevailing force. Though grotesque, the robber bridegroom tale was a supposedly empowering tale. A young maiden narrowly avoids being cannibalized by her betrothed and his gang of criminals; horrific serial predators who regularly robbed, killed, and ate innocent women. She exposes his villainy in front of their wedding party so that the evil-doers can be convicted and executed.

 

Her lecture led to a riveting discussion about themes of gender roles and partnership for the story's original audience. The conversation inevitably wandered and her students began to share their favorite portrayals of marriage in pre-modern literature.

 

“If we’re talking about achieving realism in marriage, like the nuances of male and female experiences in sanctioned and regulated partnership, nothing beats _Much Ado About Nothing_.” One of her seniors said. It immediately launched a debate about who produced the best adaptation of the play: David Tennant and Catherine Tate versus Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson of course.

 

 _Oh shit_. Brienne thought, remembering every time Jaime had referred to them as Beatrice and Benedict. He loved that play. He could quote it start to finish and often employed a very Shakespearean wisdom to their relationship. They weren't the missing piece to each other's everything...they were the embodiment of a necessary counterweight to each other's perspectives. They were never locked in conflict or quarrels, but in mutually beneficial challenges. Their love language made room for wit and passion, valuing both equally. She loved that about them. About him. She loved so much and so hard. Maybe too much and too hard. 

 

“The fact that the male suitor trope in modern media has diverged from Benedict is a tragedy.” One student said.

 

“How’s that?” Pod was trying to steer the conversation back towards a more productive line of inquiry.

 

“I don’t care about mystery or aloofness or subversive acts and storylines. There’s nothing to learn there. There’s no fun or romance.” The student continued. “Benedict is so good because he’s stupid. He stays stupid. He’s made to love. He acts from that love and everyone knows it. Everyone can see it, even when he's putting on a front. It doesn’t make any sense, but that's essentially human, isn't it?” The class erupted into giggles.

 

“Can confirm, my boyfriend is a fucking idiot but he’s the best I’ve ever had. It's a great time.” Another said. Brienne checked the time on her phone and got distracted by the lock screen. Jaime periodically changed it whenever she left her phone unattended in his presence. Usually it was a photo of him making a hideous face, but right now they were both in frame. It was a rare consensual selfie on her part. They were laughing.

 

_I want to marry this fucking idiot, don't I?_

 

When she looked up again the class was silent, watching her expectantly. They were all amused by her wandering attention. She cleared her throat and changed the powerpoint slide.

 

“So we can all agree: don’t settle for a robber bridegroom. Keep searching for the idiot of your preferred gender identity.” She said before transitioning into a bit about the folktale’s repetition in art and poetry. Her students laughed and continued to take notes. 

 

~

 

She didn’t plan it, so it just happened one morning. He was sitting on the edge of their bed, struggling to button the cuffs of his shirt. She had just finished brushing her teeth and was only half dressed. She took a knee in front of him and finished buttoning the cuff around his prosthetic arm. His hair was a mess and he was only half awake but he brushed lint off both her shoulders before affectionately stroking her cheek with his hand, leaning forward to kiss her good morning.

 

She felt a mighty pull- deja vu and adrenaline zinging down her spine instantaneously. It felt like she had knelt in front of him like this before. It felt like this was the newest thought to ever exist. It felt like this moment would never align again.  

 

“Will you marry me?” She asked. He was visibly speechless, rendered frozen and unblinking before her. She swallowed and struggled to breathe evenly. Time stopped.

 

“Will _I_ marry _you_?" He whispered. She took his face in her hands. He clasped her wrist, swept his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. 

 

“Jaime...will you have me?” He pressed his forehead against hers.

 

"I am yours. I've always been yours.”

 

~

 

She dreamt about sitting across the table from herself one more time. The other Brienne looked the same as she did the first time: short hair with suit of armor. Heavy book between them. Her skin was bruised and scarred but otherwise they were twins. The other Brienne smiled. And this time she was able to reach across the table and take her own hand. _You don't have to worry_ they said to each other in unison _it's different now_.   


	8. Let's Have a Wedding or Two, Goddamnit

It took some persuading to keep Jaime from immediately running out to buy her a diamond ring to signal their engagement. One night when they were lying in bed, lazily watching the sun go down, they realized her parents’ wedding rings were close to the right size.

 

He had been talking about an interesting lecture he had sat in on that morning, too deep in his own thoughts to realize she was taking off her necklace and letting her father’s ring fall into her hand. She put it on her left fourth finger and found that it was only slightly too large. He was still talking when she reached inside his shirt, pulling out his matching chain.

 

“You know I think Pod would really like the-“ He stopped short when she pinched open the clasp and started sliding her mother’s ring off.

 

“What would Podrick like?” She picked up his hand and put her mother’s ring on his finger. She squinted and fidgeted with the fit. It was also a little large on him. When she looked up he was smiling.

 

“We could get them resized.” He pointed out.

 

“I’d like that. Dad would too.” He flexed his hand, letting his fingers fall between hers.

 

“Lucky I lost the right hand, huh?” She snorted and rolled her eyes.

 

They sent them off the next day, giving the job to the same jeweler that Gail had used for Ann’s engagement ring. They both felt slightly off balance without the weight of the chains around their necks, but they would have to get used to that weight moving to their hands anyway. 

 

~

 

He did manage to surprise her though, just a few days later. They were having a working lunch at one of the campus cafes, grading and eating and occasionally running things past each other. It was snowing outside, but it was cozy and well lit inside.

 

When she reached out for the last bite of her sandwich she touched something smooth and distinctly not composed of turkey and wheat. She looked up to find her plate pushed aside and a small box sitting in it’s place. He was still grading nonchalantly.

 

“Jaime…” He looked up and winked before going back to what he was doing.

 

It was a fairly nondescript ring. Slim rose gold band, a teardrop shaped opal with a distinctly blue tint. How it fit so perfectly was beyond her.

 

“That jeweler still had your size on file.” He said, stealing a fry off her plate. When she looked up from her hand he was smiling, but it was wobbly and lopsided. His knee was bouncing and he was clicking his pen rapidly. He was nervous.

 

“It’s beautiful.”

 

“You don’t have to-“

 

“I love it. Truly.” She reached for his hand. He kissed the ring and then the back of her wrist. They went back to work, finishing their lunch and then ordering some coffees. When he left to go teach a class he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek but she caught his chin in her hand and kissed him properly. He smiled into it. 

 

She wore the ring everyday and within a week everyone knew they were engaged. They collected endless warm congratulations from their colleagues and relieved _thank- the-gods-_ _it’s-about-time_ themed messages from friends and family. Tyrion sent flowers and champagne to Jaime, a beautiful handwritten letter to Brienne. Gail just screamed for about twenty minutes straight.

 

~

 

Valentines Day fell on a Friday, so they took an extra long weekend for the Tyrell-Goodwin ceremony.

 

They took a train to Casterly Rock on a Thursday morning. They pointedly avoided the street Jaime grew up on, but he showed her everything else with considerable excitement. It was a beautiful city with tall brick buildings, rolling hills, and bright red trolly cars. Brienne thought it looked like a postcard. She got to see his school, his old fencing club, and the natural history museum that inspired his first academic pursuits. They walked across the campus grounds of his beloved undergraduate institution. He showed her all the best hilltop views, a delicious cafe with local foods, and the bar that pretended to not notice his fake ID as a teenager.

 

While young Brienne tried to get into grungy pubs to hear punk bands, Jaime had frequented a much cleaner nightclub to listen to jazz and experimental R&B. It reminded her a bit of Ricky Ricardo’s Tropicana Club in _I Love Lucy_.

 

“We had very different childhoods.” She said. He laughed. “I would have hated you in high school.” They were sipping gin and tonics and listening to a drag queen sing enchanting, ethereal lounge music.

 

“Not any more than I hated myself.” He reached over to tap her engagement ring. “No take backs wench.” She leaned into his should and waited till he was looking at her again.

 

“Did anybody else know about your secret spot?”

 

“Tyrion. He liked the whiskey cocktails.”

 

“I didn’t even know mixed drinks were a thing until my first year of undergrad.” She admitted. He smiled again, sliding an arm around her shoulders and settling back in their u-shaped booth. They were an odd match indeed. “I like it though. It’s peaceful.”

 

“Wanna dance?”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“We need to practice. For the wedding.” That was a lie. She indulged him often around their own home.

 

“Look at them. They’re like, professionals or something.” She gestured to the dance floor, where very proficient individuals were displaying actual techniques.

 

“True. I much prefer a floor full of other punch drunk fools.” He settled for another round of drinks, which were consumed with her ensconced in his arms while they listened to the music.

 

~

 

The slept late and ordered room service. She took a long bath after lunch. They had a few hours to kill before the ceremony. Gail called twice the previous night and once again that morning to ramble out her nerves and rehearse her vows. She was in a hotel a few blocks over, also taking a bath. Jaime came to sit on the floor outside the tub, showing her the texts he was exchanging with Ann. The two women were nervous as hell and halfway unhinged with joy. According to the customs they were observing, they had spent the previous night apart and wouldn’t see each other until the ceremony that night.

 

“Hey Gail.” Brienne interrupted her third run through of the vows, she put the phone on speaker so Jaime could hear. “It’s going to be perfect.” Gail sighed on the other end of the line, water splashing as she presumably leaned back. “I watched the tailor hem the dress myself. Rosie got all the flowers to the venue this morning. Uncle Archie has the rings. AJ will be there soon to help the caterers. Nothing is out of place.”

 

“ _Our_ wedding was not this crazy.”

 

“That’s because you yanked me off the slide at recess and put a pipe cleaner ring on me before I knew what was happening. Also that wasn’t a legally binding contract. Last I checked, anyway.”

 

“Should have just done the same thing.“

 

“Not too late.” Jaime piped up. Gail snorted with laughter.

 

“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do.” Brienne sighed. “You’re going to call Ann and tell her you love her. You’re going to turn off your phone, order in some lunch, and watch something stupid on TV. The poorer the quality the better.”

 

“Is this how you boss Jaime around?”

 

“YES.” He said. Brienne flicked water at him. He crossed his arms on the edge of the tub and propped his chin on his wrist.

 

“It’s kind of hot.” Gail joked.

 

“Right?” Brienne shushed them both.

 

“Then go to Rosie’s room. Or put your head in Uncle Archie’s lap and ask him a philosophical question. Don’t start getting ready till three. The photographer will come get you at four.”

 

“Oui chef.” Gail said. “I don’t say it enough, but I love you. So very much.”

 

“Oh shut up.”

 

“Say it back, brat.”

 

“I love you, Gail. You are ready for this. You deserve every moment of this.”

 

Thus soothed, Gail hung up and began to prepare for the day. Jaime traced patterns on the surface of the water. She gathered bubbles in her hand and put some on his nose. He huffed and send them flying, making her smile.

 

“What are you thinking?” He asked. She worried the inside of her cheek and shrugged.

 

“I’m thinking about…how much I love her. How much I wish I could take away the nerves.” He nodded sympathetically. She still looked like she was milling something over, so he waited for her to finish her thought. She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. He touched his forehead to hers briefly.

 

“What else?” He prompted. 

  
  
“I know this is going to be perfect for them…but I don’t think I an stomach a ceremony. When we do it, I mean.” He drug water up her to her knees. Then her upper arms and back. Warmth spilled over her shoulders along with his fingertips.

 

“Fuck it. We can take our witnesses to the court house and a hit a bar afterwards. Or the fencing club.” She laughed, sinking back down in the water.

 

“Marriage by combat. Very us.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” He kissed her forehead. “We’ll only do what feels right and easy. It’ll come in time.”

 

~

 

The gallery was lit with hundreds of paper lanterns which cascaded down from the rafters. The walls were full of large abstract paintings in a million different colors done by a mutual friend of theirs. The room was packed. Ann’s mother Aro stood beneath a wooden arch in full tribal regalia. The arch was blooming with green carnations and violets. The painting behind it was an explosion of yellow and orange.

 

Gail and Ann entered the room hand in hand, presenting themselves to their family for the first time.

 

Gail’s gown was off the shoulders and composed entirely of lace in Tyrell family gold. Ann was wearing a layered silk halter top dress in a rich Goodwin family blues. They both wore a crown of violets. The room erupted for them. The stood beneath the arch to exchange wedding rings. Aro chanted in two languages, binding their left hands together with three white cords to complete the hand fasting. They repeated the list of traditional vows to the seven and sandwiched in three of their own promises.

 

_“I am yours and you are mine, Heaven Ann Oceancry Tyrell. You have cracked my life wide open and I don’t think I’ll ever recover. You walk everywhere with your arms, eyes, and heart wide open and I never want to see you live anyway else. I promise to always walk beside you, and maybe just slightly behind. You have iron in your spine but if you ever need to rest I’ll be there. I promise to keep your home full and warm with friends, food, and music- no matter where we’re taken. Your mother is my mother. Your brothers are my brothers, your sister is my sister, and their children will be ours. We will blend them all with my own. As long as we get to go to bed next to each other, it’s home. And I promise to hold your heart next to mine for eternity. You have given me the greatest gift and I will spend every bit of life I am given trying to earn your never-ending grace and affection. I take your name and hand with pride.”_

 

Brienne though her heart might pound out of her chest. Jaime's hand brushed her thigh. He had been watching her the whole time. 

 

_“I am yours and you are mine, Abigail Joy Goodwin. The moment I laid eyes on you I realized I could let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My soul sings your name morning, noon, and night and I don’t care to ever learn another melody. You used to tell me that you never felt rooted anywhere, so today I promise to sit on your feet and keep you firmly on whatever ground we claim as our own. I will walk down every path with you and remind you that you belong here on this earth. Always. With me. I promise to nourish your mind, body, and heart. We’ve gotten the hang of caring for ourselves and each other, but as we grow ever older I swear to protect our peace and ensure our safety. Above all I promise to share all that I am and all that I will ever be. We are one. Our families are now one. Let us never leave a room without knowing we continue to choose this life together with all our heart, hopes, effort, and joy. I take your name and hand with pride.”_

 

She leaned her temple against Jaime's as she took in a shaky breath. He linked their arms together, glassy eyed himself. Those words spoke to something deeply and universally embedded.

 

"Ditto." He whispered to her. She choked on a laugh.

 

"Yah. Me too." She agreed, taking a tissue to her cheek.  

 

“Beloved friends and family,” Aro beamed. “I present to you, The Tyrell-Goodwins. Long may you live.”

 

“LONG MAY YOU LIVE.” The assembled dutifully echoed.

 

Music spilled out from everywhere at once.

 

The couple remained bound to each other for the first dance and a round of photos. The feasting and drinking began immediately, right there in the same space. Archie Goodwin took the second dance with Ann, performing an old Tarth folk dance. Aro and Gail took the next turn with a traditional Casterly waltz. Everyone was flushed and weepy.

 

“Look at you.” Brienne took her friend’s face in her hands. The years between them suddenly felt like they had slipped by so very, very quickly. “Look how far you’ve come.”

 

“I wouldn’t have made it without you. Dance with me.” So she did. They spun each other around like they were children again, singing every word to an _Earth Wind and Fire_ song to each other. There were dozens and dozens of photos to take, family members to embrace, hands to shake, and people to meet.

 

Brienne found herself back in Jaime’s arms swaying softly to the music after awhile. Over his shoulder she could see Gail sitting for the first time that night with Ann on her knee, both of them looking at each other like they were the only ones in the room.

 

“You look so beautiful, tonight.” Jaime said, just under the music.

 

“Just tonight?”

 

“Always.” He dropped a kiss on her exposed collarbone. She was in a strapless red maxi dress which swept the floor. She only just noticed that it matched his pale red suede shoes.

 

“Do you want me to take your name?” She asked. He abruptly hid his face in her neck but she felt a tear or two hit her skin. _Oh_.

 

“Can I take yours?” He asked hoarsely.

 

“Evenstar-Lannister has a nice ring too it.” She slipped a hand around the back of his neck and rubbed little circles on the top of his spine. “We can take them both.” When he lifted his head to smile at her she brushed her fingers under both his eyes, clearing away the tears. “We should do it at home, In Harrenhal. The courthouse is gorgeous.” He continued to marvel at her a little bit. Speechless. “Then we could invite people over. Have dinner on the roof.” He nodded enthusiastically. “I’m not sure I’ll wear a dress though. This thing is driving me crazy.” She reached down to pull her neckline up for the millionth time.

 

“I know for a fact that Ann is wearing skinny jeans under that gown.” He laughed breathlessly. Brienne giggled.

 

“Gail’s definitely wearing running shorts under hers.”

 

“I can’t wait to marry you.” The thought of him  _wanting_ just as much as she did was dizzying, to say the least. 

 

“I am yours and you are mine.” He looked like she had just handed him the solid gold key to the gods’ treasury.

 

“I am yours and you are mine.” He agreed. “I take your name and hand with pride.”

 

~

 

Like a lot of things in their life, it fell into place. After Gail and Ann returned from their honeymoon in a secluded little cabin in the North, everything went back to normal for a few weeks.

 

On a breezy but pleasant day in March Brienne found herself trailing behind Sansa and Arya Stark as they went shop to shop downtown. Arya had just returned from Essos and was catching up with her siblings. Sansa had officially won another term in the senate and was looking for a new suit to wear to the swearing ceremony. The three of them were laughing and talking about nothing in particular when Brienne spotted a tall mannequin with an interesting look. Arya nudged her sister and angled her chin in the same direction Brienne was gazing.

 

“Oh shit, you are so trying that on.”

 

“San-“

 

“Not another word.” It was a gown, technically. A billowy bell sleeved white silk affair that had a plunging neckline and what would have been a scandalously high thigh slit where in not for the intricately embroidered fitted trousers that went beneath. The fact that it came in her size was one thing. The fact that it was comfortable and extremely flattering was another. Sansa bounced on her toes when she came out of the dressing room. “Oh Brienne. It’s perfect.”

 

“I would marry the HELL out of you in that.” Arya agreed.

 

“You think so?” Brienne looked at herself in the mirror and ran a hand through her own hair. She looked...good. She looked like herself. She looked happy. 

 

“Somewhere across town a Lannister is getting such a hard-“ Sansa elbowed her sister before she could finish the thought. 

 

“I’m buying that for you.” Sansa said. “I don’t care where or when but you’re wearing that eventually.” Brienne’s protests were always unsuccessful when both Stark girls were involved. This time Arya nicked Brienne's wallet and Sansa ran to the register with her own credit card before Brienne could so much as get her things back. 

 

~

 

They set it up at the end of March, somehow managing to find a weekend where their loved ones were all free. She wore the magical clothes Sansa had bought her. Jaime wore a smart looking navy blue suit. She wore his red suede loafers so they both had a bit of each other's house colors on for luck. 

 

Tyrion and Gail witnessed the signing of the license. They went in front of a judge with a small crowd behind them to watch the ring exchange and vows. Gail and Ann, the entirety of the Goodwin family, the Stark children, Tyrion, Bronn, Davos, Pod, a handful of their current and past students, and even some university colleagues joined them. The group walked them home afterwards, throwing a seemingly endless supply of rice and flower petals at them for the entire 6 block walk.

 

They all spent an afternoon in the sun together on the roof of the townhouse, BBQing and drinking and celebrating. It was the first truly warm day of Spring and they relished it. Gail and Tyrion did their duties as de-facto maid of honor and best man, attempting to one-up each other with mortifying childhood stories that put everyone in stitches.

 

Jaime’s hand never once left hers. He had freely let tears fall during the ring exchange, but now he seemed to be manufacturing as much light as the sun and stars combined. They were leaning together against the railing of the balcony, watching their friends and family laugh together, their colleagues and young mentees intermingling flawlessly. Jaime kissed her cheek and tucked hair behind her ear. They both laughed when his hand came back with several grains of rice.

 

“I’ve loved you for so long.” He said.

 

“Not as long as I’ve loved you, Jaime Lannister.” She meant to joke, but it felt utterly factual.

 

“That’s _Dr. Evenstar-Lannister_ to you.” He said, flashing his ring at her. She beamed, holding her own up next to it. Her parents’ rings suited them perfectly. He let his fingers fall between hers and kissed her hand. “Wife.”

 

“Husband.” The words felt foreign and just right at the same time. A whistle from Gail pulled them out of their little world.

 

“Stop being gross and come cut this cake.” Pod started a chant for a speech. Brienne wrinkled her nose and shook her head, but far be it from her husband to ignore a chance to flex his oratory skills.

 

“I’ve been dreaming about you since the moment we met. I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve your company, or your ceaseless grace, but I must have done something decent because today feels like a dream I never want to let go of. You told me once that we were always meant to be like this, that we are each other’s path…” She flushed as he repeated her own words back to her. “I believe in that more than anything. I believe in you more than any god, law, or empirically backed fact of nature, Brienne. You’re my partner in all things. You hold the other end of the tether. You better me. I am the best version of myself with you and you alone. A better swordsman. A better teacher. A better brother and human in general. There is no me without you. Full stop. I’ll say it every morning and every night. Again and again. _I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?_ ”

 

Brienne’s face crumpled. She hid her tears in his shoulder. They embraced fiercely. She kissed him again in front of everyone. Their friends fell to pieces clapping, cheering, and swearing at them. He played dirty quoting Benedict of Padua like that.

 

“ _As strange as the thing I know not_.” She managed to say back to him. “ _You have stayed me in a happy hour_."

 

“Wait…does that make me Claudio?” Ann asked as the din settled.

 

“What the fuck is Claudio?” Tyrion asked, sending everyone into another conniption. Sansa wiped her eyes tried to explain the relevant bits of _Much Ado About Nothing_.

 

“Bloody academics.” He scowled.

 

“Did you get many sweet nothing out of that international politics degree, brother?” Jaime teased after leaving a chaste kiss behind his wife’s ear.

 

“Sometimes he quotes Sun Tzu’s The Art of War.” Sansa joked.

 

“HOT.” Arya pretended to swoon as she presented the bride and groom with a freshly washed fencing saber. “You’re all dweebs.”

 

“Arn’t like…five Ivy Leagues trying to poach you for a teaching position right now?” Gail asked.

 

“That’s slander.” Arya sniffed. Sansa wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders proudly, nodding a confirmation.

 

Jaime and Brienne shared the hilt of the sword and cut into a three tiered cake. He dabbed icing on her nose and she smashed a whole slice into his face in retaliation.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for indulging and putting up with my mediocre literary skills. Until next time! xoxo


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